


In Safe Hands

by sainnis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anaphylaxis, Bathing/Washing, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Fever, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Keith (Voltron), Pet Names, Praise Kink, Sick Shiro (Voltron), Sickfic, Soft Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Touch-Starved Shiro (Voltron), guided masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: Set right after the events of S7E1. While he's still getting used to his new body, Shiro comes down with a virus that's highly contagious to everyone except Keith. Alone on Black as Shiro gets sicker, Keith has to find a way to save him.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 357





	In Safe Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes we just need a little h/c, a bit of sickfic, a smidge of comfort and true love confessions. Sometimes we need 21K of it. 
> 
> Technically canon-compliant up to S7E1.

Shiro’s breaths were quiet and deep, almost blending seamlessly with the humming of Black’s engines. As Keith stepped into the cabin, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, lit up only by the faint lights of Shiro’s paladin armor discarded on the floor. Everyone else was outside their lions already, eager to get to the market and load up on supplies and shake out their limbs after a movement in deep space, but Keith wanted to wait until the last moment to wake Shiro. 

Keith dropped to his knees next to the bed, silent. The low light awoke memories of a dangerous Shrio, the one he’d battled, the one who’d burned his mark on his skin. This Shiro, though, gasped when Keith brushed a hand over his flesh shoulder, curling a bit more in on himself as expecting a blow. Keith winced, rubbing his thumb gently over the fabric of Shiro’s undersuit. “It’s me, it’s Keith. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“Keith.” The way Shiro said his name was like he didn’t fully believe it. “Where--where are we?”

“We’re on some little planet, um,” Keith looked down at his pad. “Tamilon 15.” Shiro tried to sit up but as he had the last few times, he forgot his arm was missing and nearly crashed back to the bed. Keith anticipated the move and leaned forward to catch him, pulling him upright. “Sorry. Just landed. I didn’t want to wake you but it’s probably the last time we’ll touch ground for another few movements and,” he reached out, brushing a bit of sleep-mussed hair off Shiro’s forehead. “I thought you might want to see sunlight.”

Shiro’s chin dropped, his head leaning just slightly into Keith’s touch before it swung away. “How long,” he said, voice rough, “how long was I asleep?”

“Just a few hours.” He stood, holding out a hand. “It’s good. You need it. It’s going to take awhile before you get back to more regular sleeping hours, and deep space won’t help much with circadian rhythms.”

Shiro took his hand, letting Keith help him up. When Keith lay a steadying palm on his back, he felt Shiro’s body tremble under his touch, like a ripple moving between them. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished, and Shiro straightened with a faint smile. “So. Tamilon 15.”

Tamilon 15, it turned out, was surprisingly beautiful for a far-flung planetoid. They’d landed near the coast, close to an open-air market, and the wind from the waves off the violet sea filled Keith’s lungs and slowed his racing thoughts. It was strange not to wear armor or an undersuit, just some regular clothes that Lance and Allura had traded for on their last stop. Even without her castle ship, the princess’ enthusiasm for the smaller comforts was easy to get behind. They’d been through so many battles that the feeling of soft fabric felt nearly foreign.

Keith tugged back his sleeves in the warmth of the sun, revealing pale skin and a few thin scars on his forearms. He was still armed--weapons tucked under layers and in pockets--but he felt oddly light. Just viewing the world through his own eyes, no viewscreen or helmet blocking his vision, felt like a gift. Ahead of him, Lance pointed out shiny bits of jewellery to Allura and Romelle, while Hunk and Pidge made a beeline for the food market, datapads in hand. Coran and Krolia stayed back with the lions, running diagnostics and making a few small repairs while letting his space wolf do a little hunting. 

As they all dispersed, it left him beside Shiro, who hadn’t said a word since disembarking Black. 

“One tick,” Keith said, tugging on Shiro’s left sleeve as he passed over a few credits to a vendor. The seller handed Keith two halves of some type of neon green fruit, hollowed out and filled with juice. “Here,” he said, handing one to Shiro. “You look a little thirsty.”

Shiro gave a soft smile and accepted it, taking a sip. “Oh, wow,” he said, coughing a bit. “It’s really sweet.”

Keith laughed. “I didn’t think they made anything in the galaxy that was too sweet for you.”

They wandered the stalls for the better part of a varga, sipping their juice and trying to avoid the crowded lanes in favor of the less congested ones. Children ran through the market, squealing with laughter, and in front of them, a young couple held hands, their short, reptilian wings folded against the other’s. It felt disingenuine to be jealous of two strangers, and yet, Keith’s chest tightened at how easily they bumped against each other, how their gait fell into an easy rhythm, how one tucked into the other’s side. 

He glanced at Shiro, watching as he used his wrist--the only one he had left, thanks in part to Keith--to wipe at the sweat along his hairline. All they’d done was walk around the marketplace, but Shiro’s breathing was fast, as if he’d been sparring instead of strolling. “Hey,” Keith said, inclining his head towards a shady seat away from the crowds. “You want to sit for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure.” Shiro followed him to the bench, easing himself down with a sigh. “Was I that obvious?”

“Hmm?

“Me.” Shiro tugged at the neck of his black t-shirt. “Walking like an old man.” He tugged on his forelock. “Looking like one, too.”

“Shiro.” Keith shook his head, nudging his knee against Shiro’s for a moment. “You don’t look like an old man. And you walk like someone who’s getting their strength back.” He pulled out a water canister from his pocket. “Here. It’s warmer outside than I thought it would be.”

Shiro drank a long pull from the bottle. “I don’t like being a burden on you.”

“How are you being a burden? Because you’re thirsty?” 

“No,” Shiro said, frowning. “I’m thinking about it a lot. Where I fit. Now. Or if I fit. I mean, Black must have saved me for a reason, but I’m not really sure where I belong anymore.”

Keith’s pulse accelerated. “What do you mean?”

“I told you if anything ever happened to me I wanted you to lead Voltron. And,” he said, rubbing his thumb against the worn stone of the bench, “Something did. And you’ve done brilliantly. Better than I ever could have hoped.”

“But you’re back now.”

Shiro’s mouth was tight. “Black doesn’t need two pilots.”

“Black cared enough about you to protect your soul from Zarkon. She saved you. It’s not about what Black _needs_. It’s about what she wants, and what she wants is you alive and part of the team.” Keith grunted. “You do belong.”

Shiro stared out over the violet ocean, watching the waves roll in. “You seem pretty sure of that.”

“I am sure.” He pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the lions. “You want to take it up with her instead? Get her all growly and cranky and have her rumbling in both our heads all night?”

“Fair enough.” Shiro sighed. “I’m glad you all want me around. I guess I’m overthinking. It’s just hard to know who I am sometimes.”

He had to keep reminding himself of everything Shiro had been through. Physical death. The astral plane. His soul put into a body that wasn’t entirely his. “It’s okay not to know. Anytime you’re not sure, I can remind you.”

Shiro’s eyes went soft, turning from steely gray to silver in the afternoon light. “What would you tell me?”

“About Takashi Shirogane?” Keith asked, savoring the way Shiro’s name felt in his mouth, on his tongue. “I have a list.”

“You have a list.”

“I do, and it’s long.”

“Of things about me.”

“I’ve known you for a long-ass time. Of course I do.” 

Shiro reached across his chest, rubbing his shoulder, above the spot where his limb used to be. It pained him, Keith knew, not that he ever complained. It took everything in Keith to not reach out and soothe the spot with his own hands. “Will you tell me one thing? From your list?” 

“Well. Let's see.” Keith drew a long breath, filling his lungs with something that wasn’t salt but reminded him of it. “One thing that I know about Shiro is that whenever it was too late in the dining hall to get an actual dinner, he said that the second best thing was a double bowl of Lucky Charms. Even though the marshmallows all taste the same, he says the rainbow ones taste the best.”

Shiro laughed, the sound warm and beautiful. “They do taste different! The rainbows are superior to all other marshmallows.” He pressed his palm over his chest. “I forgot all about Lucky Charms. The perfect cereal.”

“When we get back to Earth, I’ll buy you an aisle full of Lucky Charms.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll even separate you out a bowl of just rainbows in celebration of our safe return.”

He tilted his head, starlight hair catching the breeze. “I can always count on you.” He leaned against the bench. “Thank you for taking me aside. The crowds were getting to me. Honestly,” he said, releasing a slow breath. “The only person who makes me feel even a little bit calm right now is you.”

Keith was taken aback, but he kept his expression neutral. “I do?”

“Yeah. Like, no offense to Coran or your mom whatsoever, but right now it’s hard to be around other people. Around everyone.” 

“But not me.”

“Not you. Never you.” Shiro scrubbed a hand over his hair. “That’s probably selfish. I don’t know.”

“It’s not selfish. You’ve been through a lot.” Keith reached out, patting Shiro’s knee lightly. “What if we could get Black for a little while to ourselves, just to give you a break? Mom and Coran can bunk in one of the other Lions. They won’t mind.”

Shiro shook his head. “I couldn’t possibly ask them to do that.”

“You don’t need to. I’ll take care of it.” Keith stood, holding out his hand. “Come on. Let me get you some mystery meat on a stick before it’s back to protein burritos, yeah?”

++

It didn’t take much convincing for Coran and his mom to switch Lions. Coran had a theory that perhaps a little of Black’s essence was a part of Keith, too, and that maybe it made Keith a little easier to be around because it felt familiar, a safe vibration. Krolia, on the other hand, simply pressed a kiss to Keith’s temple and said, “No problem, kiddo. Besides, it’ll be easier for me to work on new simulations without you peeking over my shoulder.”

“I don’t peek, Mom.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She waved. “Enjoy the peace and quiet.” And then she _winked._

“Whatever that’s for,” Keith said, frowning, “leave it.”

“What? I had something in my eye!” 

Takeoff from Tamilon 15 was easy, their course was plotted into Black’s system, and Shiro was in the cabin resting with space wolf, who apparently had caught quite a few space voles and stuffed himself. Keith settled into the cockpit, his legs thrown up over the console. He muted the comms except for emergency signals and actually let himself take a goddamn nap. No one was trying to murder them, at least for that moment, Shiro was alive, the lions were fully powered, and nothing was actually on fire. 

It was delightful. 

Keith woke to the press of a cold nose against his neck. He gave a sharp gasp, ready to spring from his chair when he realized space wolf was seated beside him, her ears back. Her eyes were fixed on him as she gave a low, mournful whine. “What’s wrong?” He smoothed a hand over her shaggy head as he checked over his instruments. All systems were normal. Nothing on radar. The comms were quiet, except for Hunk and Pidge, who, if the captions were anything to go by, were having a debate about engine speed post-radiation exposure. 

“Why are you so sad? You just ate a few hours ago.” He scratched around her ears, pressing a kiss between them. “You’re okay.”

She gave a sharp sniff, shook herself, and then let out another whine before turning towards the cabin. Keith froze. “Oh, shit. Shiro!”

He leapt up, scrambling across the cockpit and skidded into the cabin. “Shiro, is everything--”

Shiro was slumped over the sink in the bathroom, holding himself up with his remaining arm, all color gone from his face. Keith raced to him, running a hand along his back as Shiro caught his breath. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,” Shiro rasped. “Got a little sick.” He rinsed out his mouth, letting out a quiet groan. 

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. Your system’s probably still getting used to things.” Keith sighed. The meat on a stick probably hadn’t been the best idea. “I should have gotten you something a little less spicy.”

“It’s fine. I’m not used to being so sensitive,” Shiro said. He looked a little sheepish. “I think the worst is over.” He took a step towards the door and then swayed, barely able to keep his balance before Keith caught him.

“Whoa, there,” Keith said, steadying him. “Easy. Let me give you a hand back to bed, okay?” 

“I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”

There would have been a time when Shiro’s weight would have knocked Keith sideways, but now that his Galra genes had manifested and he after spending two years training with his mom on the space whale, Shiro wasn’t difficult to manage. “You’re not a mess. Even if this body is you, it’s still a little new. You’re okay.”

He set Shiro on the edge of the bed, reluctant to let go. Shiro glanced up, his smile lopsided. “Do you ever think of how weird our conversations are?”

“Like ours as in you and me or the paladins in general?”

“I guess all of us, but I mean, you just had to help me back to bed because _I have a new body._ ”

“Yeah.” Keith shrugged, kneeling next to the bed and taking off Shiro’s shoes. It seemed like a slightly intimate gesture, but if Shiro minded, he didn’t let on. “I guess I’m just used to weird at this point. And like, I think I’m too grateful about that to feel anything else.”

Shiro’s breath caught for a moment. “Grateful about me?”

Keith’s ears rung. _I died, Keith._ “All the time.” He patted the mattress. “You should rest.”

Shiro slid under the covers, curling on his left side and hugging a pillow close to his chest. Keith didn’t ask, but it seemed like he was avoiding the right side, like maybe it pained him. “I didn’t mean to take your bed.”

“It was _your_ bed originally, and besides, there’s documented proof I can sleep anywhere.” He gestured to a pile of blankets and pillows on a bedroll on the opposite side of the room. “I’ll get you some water, all right?”

He grabbed a water pouch and set up a bin beside the bed, just in case. “Let me know if you need me.” Keith glanced down at Shiro, but his eyes were already closed, a tight expression on his face. All Keith wanted to do was reach out and soothe it away, but he didn’t think Shiro would appreciate being touched without permission and the last thing he wanted was to make him uncomfortable. 

“Keep an eye on him for me, okay?” he said to space wolf, giving his ears a good scratch before taking the lights down a degree and heading back to the cockpit. 

++

The sound of something crashing to the floor in the cabin startled Keith out of sleep.

One side effect of being a paladin and a Blade was that he could transition from fully asleep to awake and armed in a moment, and this was no exception. Knife in hand, he leapt over the pilot’s seat and raced into the cabin, adrenaline surging. 

Space wolf whined, snuffling at Shiro, who lay collapsed near the bed, a blanket wound around his legs. “Shiro!” Keith shoved his knife away, kneeling beside him and pulling Shiro into his lap, his fingers running over the fabric of Shiro’s shirt. It was damp and for a terrifying moment Keith thought somehow it was blood, even though his fingers came away clean.

“Keith,” Shiro wheezed, curling closer to Keith’s touch. “I feel… bad.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Keith said. “Are you sweating? I think you might…” Keith pressed the back of his hand to Shiro’s forehead and bit back a gasp. “You’re burning up.”

“I am?” Shiro blinked up at him, eyes unfocused. 

“We need to get you back in bed, okay?” Keith steadied himself before wrapping his arms under Shiro’s ass, tipping his weight back against Keith’s chest as he rose to his feet. Shiro was heavy, but not too much for Keith, not anymore.

Shiro’s breath warmed Keith’s neck. “You’re so strong,” he said, hanging on to Keith’s shoulders with one arm. “How are you so strong?”

“Good genes,” Keith said, setting Shiro down gently on the bed. “I don’t think this is food poisoning. I think you picked something up.” He rose to head to the bathroom to get the medkit, but Shiro let out a low moan.

“Don’t go, Keith,” he said, breathing hitched. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Keith said, reaching down to squeeze Shiro’s wrist. “I’m just gonna grab the medkit and I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Don’t wanna,” Shiro murmured, “don’t want to be alone.”

“I know. You won’t be, all right?” Keith didn’t want to alarm Shiro further, but he needed to know how high his temperature was and see what medications they had on board. He dug out the black metal box from its compartment on the wall and came back to sit at Shiro’s bedside.

“Feels cold,” Shiro said, curling on his side and pressing his face against Keith’s thigh. He shivered, wincing. “S’it cold in here?”

Keith frowned. If anything, it was a little warm in Black’s cabin, as if the lion herself was worried they might be chilly in deep space. “It’s the fever making you feel that way.” The medkit was a strange collection of items that Keith hadn’t used before on his own, though they’d gotten a briefing on them early on in their paladin training. On the Castle Ship, Coran and Allura had always handled everything medical and the healing pods were used for anything serious. Keith found a small box containing a small, round disc that he was pretty sure monitored vital signs. Fortunately the box had visual instructions. “Okay. I’m supposed to put this on your neck, okay? It won’t hurt.” At least, he hoped it wouldn’t. “Just be still for me.”

Shiro didn’t move as Keith applied the disc to Shiro’s neck, which was just as warm as his forehead. A moment after he placed it on Shiro’s skin, the disc lit up, glowing faintly red, and a panel above the bed that Keith hadn’t even realized was a screen flashed to life. The symbols on the panel didn’t make any sense to Keith; they seemed to be in Altean. “Black,” he said, trying to focus on his bond with her. “I need a hand. Can you translate this?”

The panel scrambled for a moment, glitching out, and then refreshed in English. 

_Temperature: 102.7 F_ _  
_ _Pulse: 118  
__Blood Pressure: 125/72  
__Respiration: 15  
__O2: 98%_

Keith gritted his teeth. “Shit. That fever’s kinda high. No wonder you feel so bad.” He smoothed his hand over Shiro’s forehead reflexively, surprised when Shiro leaned into his touch. He’d been so afraid to disturb Shiro in the days since he’d awoken in his new body, not wanting to cause him any discomfort. Shiro had shied away from them, sleeping and curled around pillows. Keith figured he hadn’t wanted to be touched at all, which made sense. Of course he wanted autonomy and to feel some sense of control. 

“Can’t,” Shiro said, trembling in Keith’s lap. “Warm up.”

“Don’t worry. There’s got to be some kind of fever-reducer in here.” He dug through the medkit until he found packets of medications. He remembered Coran’s lecture; the green ones were for digestive issues, the red pills were for pain--”like if someone’s bloody, get it?”--and the blue ones were for reducing temperature. Those early days felt so long ago now, back when they could barely form Voltron and food fights and late-night sparring were the norm.

It felt like another lifetime. And for Shiro, it had been.

Keith’s chest tightened. This was just some kind of space flu. Shiro would be all right. He debated messaging Coran, but then Shiro would be annoyed that Keith got the team worried about him, especially if it meant space wolf popping between the lions and dragging Coran over for a medical exam. Shiro hated people worrying about him. The trick, Keith had learned, was not letting him know how worried you were. 

“Hey,” Keith said, dumping two of the blue pills into his palm and grabbing a water pouch. “I need you to take these, okay? They’ll help with the fever.” 

Shiro frowned, groaning. “Not thirsty.”

“Just take a sip, yeah? Enough to get the pills down.” Shiro finally acquiesced, coughing into his elbow after he took the medication. “That’s good,” Keith said, rubbing his thumb over Shiro’s good shoulder. “Hopefully we can get your temp down a bit.”

“My head,” Shiro said, still pressing his cheek against Keith’s thigh. “Hurts.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” There wasn’t anything he could do except wait for the medicine to work. He reached out tentatively, his fingers just brushing Shiro’s hair back from his forehead, which was damp with sweat. “Do you want me to stay with you or leave you be?”

The reply came fast in a rush of breath. “Stay. Please.” Shiro looked up at him, expresion tight. “Can you,” he said, and then turned away, eyes shut. 

“What? What can I do?”

“It’s stupid,” Shiro said, trembling again as another wave of chills wracked his body. 

“Nothing you say is ever stupid.”

Shiro coughed again, curling a little more against Keith’s lap. “What you did. Was nice.”

Keith paused, trying to figure out what Shiro meant. “Oh.” He brushed Shiro’s hair back again, letting his fingertips trail over Shiro’s skin. “You mean this?”

Shiro’s reply was barely a whisper. “Yes.”

“Okay. I can do that.” Keith settled in a bit more comfortably on the bed, making sure Shiro wasn’t putting too much pressure on his right shoulder. He carded his fingers through Shiro’s forelock, dragging them gently over his scalp. “Does that feel all right?”

Shiro didn’t respond, but nodded against Keith’s leg, a soft sigh escaping him. After a couple of minutes, Keith noticed Shiro’s vitals had shifted a bit, though his temperature hadn’t dropped at all. He kept up his ministrations, rubbing slow circles over Shiro’s temples. “Your pulse is slowing down a little. That’s good. How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” Shiro said, snaking an arm around Keith’s legs to press more tightly against him. “Head hurts a bit less.” He opened one eye. “Please don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” If it helped Shiro feel even the slightest bit better, Keith would stroke his hair all night long. “You think you can sleep?”

“Not right now.” Shiro shuddered, his broad back shaking with chills. “I feel so gross.” 

“It might help to get you in some lighter clothes,” Keith said, smoothing his free hand over Shiro’s spine. “You’re kinda sweaty, yeah? It’s probably making you feel colder.” Shiro’s back arched into his touch. “What do you say?”

Shiro let out a pitiful moan. “I guess.” He started to push himself up with his good arm, but he lost his balance and collapsed against Keith’s lap. “Shit.”

“I’ve got you, okay?” Keith helped him sit up, steadying him until he was sure Shiro was stable. “Just relax. I’ll get you some fresh pajamas.” He made a mental note to thank Allura for making sure that Shiro had softer, more comfortable clothes; she was the one who realized it might take Shiro awhile to get used to the texture of even their paladin undersuits. “Here we go. Lift up your arm for me.”

Shiro did, looking even more pale than he had earlier, and Keith pulled his shirt over his head. The lights were dim inside Black’s cabin, but Keith’s eyes were better in the dark than a human’s. The ruined remainder of Shiro’s shoulder was still bruised, and the skin around the metal port where his Galra bicep used to be looked a little swollen. Scars of varying sizes and colors littered his torso, biting across his side, bisecting his ribs. Some were much like Keith’s; faded, thin. Others were dark and vicious, causing something low and feral to stir in him, making him want to rip apart anyone who dared to lay a finger on Shiro. 

And yet.

Even swaying where he sat, still nursing injuries from their fight, hair damp with fevered sweat, Shiro looked like the most stunning thing Keith had ever seen. It took every ounce of Keith’s self-control not to immediately try to touch Shiro’s perfect chest, his sculpted abs, his broad, muscled shoulders. He was so pretty that it _hurt_ to look at him. 

“Here you go,” Keith said, slipping a soft, white t-shirt over Shiro’s head, adjusting it over his right shoulder. “Okay. Can you lift your hips a little for me? I’ll get your pants.”

Keith tugged the waistband of Shiro’s pants, pulling them down over Shiro’s thick, toned thighs. His tongue went dry in his mouth as he removed them, and he was grateful that Shiro’s fever seemed to have him woozy enough that he didn’t notice Keith’s stare. He wondered what it would feel like to smooth a hand along the muscles there, to feel the give of the soft skin inside his thighs, to trace his fingers down to Shiro’s tapered calves and ankles. 

He cleared his throat. “These should be a bit more comfy,” he said, helping Shiro’s legs into a pair of gray cotton drawstring pants. 

“Thank you.” Shiro nodded, letting Keith guide the pants up around his waist. He blew out a long breath, holding his head in his hand. “Shit, just sitting up took a lot out of me.”

“It’s okay. Just lie back.” Keith arranged the pillows as Shiro collapsed back on the bed. “There you go.”

Shiro gave him a quick glance. “Do you think,” he said, voice quiet, “I still look like me? Like this body?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Keith reached out and stroked Shiro’s hair. “This is your body. You’re you. You look exactly like yourself.” His heart squeezed when Shiro moved to press against him again, his back shaking as he coughed. “You want me to tell you something else about you? From my list?”

Shiro’s eyes were closed. “Yeah.”

“Hmm. Let’s see. One thing I know about Shiro is that the only reason he didn’t get more demerits is because he’s a little charming and a little sneaky.”

“Wait, what?” Shiro’s tone would have been laughable if he didn’t sound so ill.

“Shiro,” Keith said, loving the way his name sounded in his mouth, “had a habit of taking out anything that could fly from a hangar, even when they weren’t approved for use by cadets. He said that it was better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. He had the mechanics wrapped around his finger and they’d let him take out whatever he wanted.”

“I didn’t,” Shiro protested, curling against Keith. “They were just nice.”

“They were gruff as hell, but they loved you.” Keith’s hand paused mid-stroke over Shiro’s hair. “Everyone loves you.” 

_I love you._ The words that reverberated so loudly inside his own heart had forced their way out at the worst possible moment, at the end of their battle, when Shiro couldn’t even hear them. At least Keith thought he hadn’t. He wasn’t brave enough to ask. It was enough that he had Shiro back alive. It was enough that their friendship had survived a fight to the death, the astral plane, the transfer of a soul. How could he ask for more than Shiro had already given? 

The bruises on Shiro’s body from their battle were mirrored on Keith’s. Nobody fought like Shiro, nobody in the universe, and the blows he’d landed would take time to fade. Keith wasn’t fully able to draw a deep breath yet; he was pretty sure that without his Galra genes that Shiro would have shattered his ribs. When he peeled off his undersuit after their fight, blood was caked between the fabric and his skin, smeared over his shoulders and hips. He’d climbed into a hot shower and sobbed, not from the pain--though he hurt, bone-deep--but because Shiro was alive. The white floor of the shower turned from scarlet to pink as Keith leaned against the wall, lightheaded. Every drop of blood, every punched bruise across his skin was worth it. 

Shiro nuzzled his cheek against Keith’s stomach. “You’re so nice to me.”

“Of course I am.” He let out the longest breath his ribs would allow. “You’re my favorite person.”

Shiro’s voice sounded a little dreamy, but whether from the fever or exhaustion, Keith couldn’t tell. “I’m your favorite paladin?”

“Well, yes. You’re the best paladin. But you’re my favorite person. Like, period.”

Shiro coughed a laugh. “Why?”

“Because you’re you.” Keith resumed stroking Shiro’s hair. “You’re brave. And you’re kind. And warm, even to people you don’t know. You see the good in others they can’t see yet. You care, even when it hurts, and you know what you stand for.” Keith’s eyes stung and he blinked until they stopped. “And you’re a giant space nerd who thinks the universe is beautiful and worth saving.” He bit his lip, steadying his breath. “You thought I was worth saving.”

Fuck. He felt a tear slide along the outside of his nose. 

“Keith.” Shiro turned up his chin to look at him, pale and shaking. “Of course you were. I--” his voice cut off as a series of wracking coughs tore into him. The sound made Keith’s heart constrict. Shiro struggled to push himself up, gasping between coughs. “I’m--I’m gonna--”

In one swift movement, Keith plucked the bin from the side of the bed and got it underneath Shiro just in time as he retched. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Keith soothed, rubbing a hand down Shiro’s back as his body rebelled. 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro gasped, his voice nearly a whine. He looked miserable, barely able to meet Keith's eyes.

“You’re fine. You think I haven’t dealt with a little puke before? You forget I trained with the Blades. It’s not a party with them until you’ve thrown up at least three times.” He lifted the water pouch to Shiro's lips. "Here. Rinse your mouth. You'll feel better."

Shiro shuddered, falling against Keith’s shoulder. “Shit.”

Keith dug in the medkit, fishing out a pack of silver foil-wrapped tablets. He’d used them before himself. Most of the time he didn’t have motion sickness, but while he was away with the Blades some of their ships’ nav systems were much rougher on him than Red or Black and he ended up hurling. The pills stopped the nausea in its tracks. “Slip this under your tongue, all right? It’ll melt and your stomach won’t be upset anymore.”

“You promise?” Shiro’s voice was ragged. 

“Trust me.” Shiro didn’t seem to mind the closeness, and Keith smoothed his hand up and down Shiro’s back.

“Tastes bad,” Shiro said, his face twisted in disgust. For a moment, it was easy to picture him as a little kid, pouting because the cough medicine tasted terrible. 

“I know. But in about a minute your system will settle down and maybe you can sleep.” 

Shiro’s head lolled on Keith’s shoulder. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

Under his fingertips, Keith felt the landscape of Shiro’s back muscles through his thin t-shirt. “Once you lie down and get comfy, you’ll be able to.”

“Is,” Shiro asked softly, “is Black on auto-pilot?”

“Yeah. We’re linked up with everyone else right now. She’s got it under control.” How very like Shiro to be worried about the team even when he was feeling horrible. “Why?”

A series of coughs wracked his body, pushing him against Keith. “Are you,” he wheezed, sipping on a bit of water before continuing, “going to sleep soon?”

“I mean, I could. You want me to stay in the room with you? I can crash,” Keith said, waving at his bedroll on the opposite side of the cabin. 

Shiro shook his head, his expression pained. His forehead pressed against Keith’s neck, radiating heat. “I don’t,” he said, and then swallowed, shivering. 

“You don’t what?” Keith kept his voice measured, careful not to push.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice tight. “Please. Don’t leave.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t, Shiro,” Keith said, wrapping his arm around Shiro’s waist. “You’re stuck with me. The cabin’s not that big.”

“Stay,” Shiro gritted out. “Don’t leave.”

Oh. “You want me to sleep here?” Shiro’s shivers increased, making his body tremble, but he managed a nod. “Okay. Okay. I’ll sleep here. If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah.”

He pulled back the blankets and helped Shiro lie down, easing him into his left side. Keith looked up, checking Shiro’s vitals. His fever had gone up a bit to 103.1 and his heart rate hadn’t dropped below 100. “Just lay down and get comfy.” He smoothed a hand over Shiro’s hair. “I just want to put on something to sleep in.”

He changed quickly, aware of Shiro’s slight groans of discomfort. “Black,” he said softly, “can you take the temperature in here down a few degrees?” Maybe that would help Shiro’s fever from spiking. She hummed a response and the ventilation system kicked on immediately. After putting on a loose pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he climbed into bed next to Shiro. Settling on his back, he winced in the dim light from the pull of his sore muscles and bruises from their battle. 

It was a little overwhelming to have Shiro so close, to smell his body wash and feel the solidness of his muscled frame. “You okay?”

Shiro nuzzled against his chest, letting out a relieved breath. “You’re here,” he said dreamily. 

“Of course I am.” Shiro pressed in a bit more until Keith lifted his arm. “You trying to get under here?” Shiro’s answer came as he pillowed his head on Keith’s chest. As soon as he did, Shiro’s breathing evened out, the panicked rate from before dissipating. 

“You don’t need to worry about me leaving you, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I do worry,” Shiro said, voice muffled against Keith’s shirt. “You went away before. The Blades.”

“That’s not happening again.” Keith sighed. He still remembered the look on Shiro’s face when he walked away from their team. It felt like a decade ago now. “I have good reasons to stick around.”

Shiro let out a soft whine. “What if,” he said, hitching a breath, “what if my soul is rejecting this body?”

Just hearing the words out loud made Keith’s heart stutter. “Shiro. It’s not.” 

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re sick. You have a fever. Everything feels a hundred times worse with a fever.” He ran his fingers through Shiro’s forelock. “Your body has been through so much, but you’ll get better. Sleep will help.”

Shiro adjusted himself against Keith’s ribcage. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” The bruises were worse on the right side of his chest, as if somehow even when turned Shiro had been avoiding a fatal blow, but knowing that Shiro was finally relaxed mitigated any pain. “You’re not hurting me at all.”

++

Shiro was screaming. 

The sound registered first in Keith’s dreams before shattering his sleep and waking him with a gasp. Shiro’s body trembled violently beside him, a cry of anguish leaping from his throat, and Keith reached out in the darkness, pulling him close. “Shiro, Shiro, I’m here, you’re all right.”

Shiro was not remotely all right. His skin blazed, sweat-drenched, and his cries had turned into words. “My arm, my arm’s gone, please, help me, please.”

Keith knew it wasn’t the most helpful thing to add his own body heat to Shiro’s fevered state, but he wrapped his arms around Shiro, feeling the slight shift of breath in Shiro’s chest as he did so. “It’s Keith. You had a nightmare. We’re on Black. You’re not alone. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Shiro’s frame was wracked with chills, shuddering in Keith’s arms. “Don’t wanna fight, don’t make me fight.”

Keith exhaled. He thought he was back in captivity. “No one has to fight. You’re safe.” With Shiro pressed close, Keith felt the breakneck drumming of his heartbeat, the short, panicked pants for air. He sat up a little, craning his neck to see the vitals glowing faintly on the screen over the bed. 

_Temperature: 104.1 F_ _  
_ _Pulse: 134  
__Blood Pressure: 104/75  
__Respiration: 18  
__O2: 97%_

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This was bad. His fever wasn’t coming down at all, instead getting dangerously high. Keith felt his own pulse speed as adrenaline surged through his system. 

“My arm hurts,” Shiro whimpered, curled pitfully in Keith’s embrace. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Keith took a steadying breath, swallowing back the lump in his throat. He’d miscalculated, figured that the medicine would help Shiro and his body would respond. He should have called Coran. He should have asked for help. This was all his fault. His stomach churned with guilt and fear. “Shiro,” he said, when all he wanted to say was _baby, sweetheart, love, darling_ , “I need to call Coran. You’re getting sicker.” He stopped, pausing to make sure his voice didn’t waver. “I’m not sure what to do to help you.”

Reaching over the edge of the bed, Keith fumbled for his comm on the floor. It was technically the middle of the night, though he could see from the streams on his comm that not all the paladins--namely Pidge and Hunk--were keeping a regular sleep schedule. Shiro would have scolded them for that in the past, but Keith had more pressing worries than making sure that all the paladins got their recommended eight hours. Keith tapped on Coran’s comm stream, sending a signal. 

About thirty seconds later, Coran’s face appeared on Keith’s comm, an eye mask pushed up over his forehead and one side of his mustache smashed against his cheek. “Keith.” He cleared his throat. “Are you and your mother planning on strategic maneuvers at this very early hour?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m sorry to wake you, Coran, but I need your help.” He swallowed. “There’s, there’s something wrong with Shiro. He’s sick and it keeps getting worse.”

Immediately, Coran’s posture straightened. “When did it start?”

“It was not long after we left Tamilon 15. He threw up, and we thought maybe it was the food, but then he got a fever and chills, plus this cough, so I gave him some medicine from the medkit and I’ve been watching his vitals and everything’s getting worse.” Keith chewed on his bottom lip. “I thought I could handle it.”

“It sounds like you’ve done very well, all things considered,” Coran said. “Can you send me his vitals?”

“Yeah.” Keith uploaded the data from the screen to his comm. “They’re in Earth measurements. You’ll have to convert them.”

“Goodness. That’s a high fever.” Coran shook his head. “I’d better pop over there. Can you send your space wolf?”

“Sure, I can--”

“Wait!” Coran pulled off his eye mask with a loud snap. “I need you to check something for me. In the medkit, there’s a little white cylinder. It’ll be blue on one end.” When Keith found the object he described, he held it up. “Yes. That’s it. If you press the blue end against Shiro’s forearm, it’ll take a drop of blood and analyze it. Can you do that?”

Keith nodded. “Shiro,” he said softly, “Hey. I just need to do a quick test. It’ll just take a second, okay?”

Shiro murmured against his chest. “Took my arm,” he said, eyes shut. “Can’t fight.”

Keith met Coran’s gaze in the comm. “He thinks he’s in captivity. He’s delirious.” He pressed the cylinder against Shiro’s forearm, grateful when Shiro didn’t even flinch. At least space medical tech was generally less painful than Earth medicine. The object beeped twice. 

“All right. Tap the cylinder against your comm and I’ll get the readings.” Coran paused while he waited for the information to arrive. “I just want to see what might be going on before I come over, especially in case we have any supplies that might--” Coran stopped, grimacing as he stared at his screen, muttering words Keith knew now were Altean curses. “Oh, no.”

Keith’s heart skipped. “What? What is it?”

“Well,” Coran said, “You are the right person to be with him. You’re the only one of our group who’s not going to catch this.”

“Catch what?” Keith slammed his fist on the mattress. “What the hell does he have?”

“Ah. Yes. A diagnosis would help.” Coran licked a finger, straightening his mustache. “I have to say this is where Earth knowledge of the human body at your stage in history is quite unhelpful. Your planet is still working on a common cold treatment, is it not? You’re still so early on in your scientific discoveries. Hmm. How many physiology classes have you taken?”

The urge to throw the comm was overwhelming. “Coran,” Keith hissed between clenched teeth. “Just tell me!”

“Sorry, sorry. Well. In your terms, it’s rhuemamyoxviriditus. Affects Alteans, Galra, and humans alike, although curiously those with genetic lines from multiple species like yourself seem to be immune. It’s a virus, an extremely contagious kind, a bit like your human influenza but with some other, erm, less pleasant symptoms.” Coran’s expression turned sympathetic. “Poor Shiro.”

Keith’s lungs couldn’t seem to draw in enough air. “He’s going to be okay, right?” _Tell me he’s going to be okay. He has to be okay._

“It’s generally not fatal, except in cases of very young children or the elderly. That said,” Coran said softly, “it’s very hard on anyone with a compromised immune system. Which would include Shiro. So we’ll have to watch him carefully.” He ran a hand down his face, blowing out a breath. “I wish I could zap over there and help you, but then you’ll just have two patients instead of one.”

“It’s okay.” Coran’s words didn’t exactly give Keith full confidence, but at least they knew what Shiro had and they could treat him. Whatever it took, even if it meant staying up for days on end, Keith would take care of him. “You mentioned other symptoms. What should I be looking for?”

“High fever, of course. Weakness. Chills. He won’t have much of an appetite.” Coran ticked off each on his fingers. “The muscle aches usually come soon after, and they can get extremely painful. He won’t want to move. He may get confused. Some patients get mild hallucinations. And the fever can cause dehydration, which will raise his pulse and bottom out his blood pressure. You need to make sure he’s drinking.”

Keith frowned. “He’s thrown up a few times. I gave him the under-tongue dissolving pill and it stopped it.”

“Good. He can have that every eight hours to stop nausea.” Coran nodded. “Dig through the medkit. Find the patches with the blue dots on them. They’re hydration patches; apply them to his skin and they’ll help.” 

Coran went over the rest of the contents of the medkit, explaining all the pills and patches and intradermal sprays, making Keith repeat it all back to him as Keith tapped notes onto his pad. “He’s going to hurt, Keith. It could get bad. You need to make sure he keeps up with the pain meds.”

Keith sighed. “He hates pain meds.”

“I promise you, he’ll want them.” Coran dragged a hand through his rumpled orange hair. “Keep an eye on his vitals. The fever and the pain will spike his heart rate. Do what you can to keep him calm.”

“I will.” 

“He’s in excellent hands. Signal me if you need me. I’ll go through my databases to see if there’s anything else that might be useful.”

“Okay.” Keith heard Shiro make a soft cry and he rested his hand on Shiro’s head, trying to soothe him. “Are you going to tell the others?” He hesitated. “I don’t want them to worry.”

“It’s up to you, but I think we ought to. I don’t want anyone popping off to Black. Your wolf can’t carry the virus, but it’s probably best if he stays with you two for now.”

“All right. Just, you know, we can’t have Lance calling over here at all hours. I’m keeping the comms muted for now, but I’ll leave yours and Allura’s open.”

“Fair enough. I’ll signal you in a bit.” Coran blinked off the screen and Keith’s head dropped back against the wall. Fucking _hell._

“Keith,” Shiro said, his voice a low moan. “Keith, I need you.”

At least Shiro was aware enough to realize he wasn’t alone. “I’m right here,” Keith said, reaching for Shiro’s hand and gripping it tight. “We need to get you some water, buddy. And some more meds. Your fever is too high.”

“I don’t feel good,” Shiro said miserably, pressing his face against Keith’s hip. “Hurts.”

“I know it does,” Keith said, squeezing Shiro’s hand. “But I’m here to help you, all right? We’ll get through this together.”

Shiro blinked up at him. “I missed you,” he said, shaking as a chill moved across his frame, “I missed you all the time. But you’re here.” His voice choked, and Keith let go of his hand to stroke his hair. “And now I’m dying.”

Keith’s chest tightened. “You’re not, Shiro. You’re not dying. You’re sick. I promise you’ll be okay. I promise.”

Shiro turned his head, wiping his cheek on Keith’s pajama pants. “I don’t want to die again.”

A quiet sob wrenched Keith’s throat and he swallowed it down. “Not on my watch. You’re safe with me, all right?”

“I,” Shiro said, trembling, “I always feel safe with you.”

His words sent tendrils of warmth along Keith’s spine. It was all he ever wanted, for Shiro to be by his side, protected, and knowing that he could make Shiro feel that way gave him renewed surge of energy despite how tired he felt. “Good. I’m glad.” His hand settled on the back of Shiro’s head, lightly stroking the short hair at his nape. The touch was so intimate that he nearly blushed, but Shiro’s fever was so high that he knew it wouldn’t register as anything meaningful beyond simple human comfort. 

Shiro sighed, leaning back against Keith’s touch. “Your hands feel like stars.”

“They do, huh?” 

“I looked for you,” Shiro said, hugging Keith’s thigh closer to him with his good arm. “In the stars. I kept seeing your face. But I couldn’t find you.”

It would take months, years maybe, for Shiro to try to explain the astral plane, and that was if he wanted to talk about it, which he hadn’t seemed to thus far until now. “You did find me, though. We found each other.”

A wobbly smile appeared. “And this is real now.”

“It’s real.” He picked up a water pouch and held it to Shiro’s lips. “You need to hydrate. Can you drink some for me?”

Shiro took a halfhearted sip, groaning. “Not thirsty.”

“I know, but for me?” He flashed Shiro a smile. “For your favorite paladin?” Keith wasn’t above a bit of bribery, especially if it kept Shiro from getting dehydrated. 

“I guess if it’s for you.” Shiro said grumpily, but he downed the rest of the pouch. “That space water tastes weird.”

“You’re not wrong.” The urge to press a kiss against Shiro’s crown was overwhelming, but Keith busied himself with the medkit, pulling out an intradermal spray. It looked like a silver ballpoint pen, except a small ampoule of pink liquid was loaded into the base. “So I talked with Coran.”

Shiro frowned, holding his head. “Coran’s not here.”

Shiro’s confused tone might have been amusing if his temperature wasn’t nearly seven degrees above normal. “He’s on Green, remember? We talked on comms a few minutes ago. He’s worried about your fever. I am, too. He suggested we use this for now. This medicine’s a little stronger than the pills and it’ll help with pain.” He gently touched Shiro’s chin, tilting it to expose his neck where his pulse bounded fast under his jaw. “I just need to put this against your skin and the medicine will get into your system.” He held up the spray, showing it to Shiro. “Will you let me do that?”

So much had been done to Shiro without permission. His body had been torn open, stitched together, pumped through with chemicals, tortured. And this body was so new. Sensations were unfamiliar. The last thing Keith wanted was to add to his loss of autonomy. Shiro blinked at him, a tight expression on his face. “It’ll hurt?” 

How many times had someone hurt him willfully? Had someone inflicted pain on this beautiful, kind, tenacious man? “No, it won’t. You won’t feel anything.” Shiro acquiesced, turning his head a little more, and Keith pressed the spray against the side of his neck with a hiss, avoiding the carotid artery as Coran had instructed. 

Shiro looked up at Keith. “It’s done?”

“All done. The meds should work more quickly.” He put the medkit aside, adjusting himself next to Shiro. “You’re so brave,” he said, not talking about the spray at all. 

“I’m not always brave,” Shiro said. “I keep shaking.”

“It’s your fever. It’ll come down a bit soon.” He resumed his ministrations at Shiro’s nape, dragging fingertips along his hairline. “You’re not scared, it’s just your body’s thermostat is thrown off.”

“I am scared, though.” He grew quiet for a long moment and Keith almost thought Shiro had fallen asleep when he pulled away from Keith’s leg, turning on his back and rubbing his palm over his chest. His skin was clammy and pale, and his breaths came fast, a bit labored. “Do you feel your heart all the time?”

What would that feel like, Keith wondered, to not have a body, to not breathe, to not feel the surge of a pulse? And then to have to get used to the feeling all over again? “No, not all the time.”

“Mine feels really fast.”

Keith glanced at Shiro’s vitals; his pulse was 118. “It’s normal for it to be fast when you’re sick.” He slid down a little on the pillows, patting his own chest. “Come here.”

Shiro looked up at him miserably. “What?”

“Just come put your head here.” He helped Shiro curl against him, Shiro’s cheek resting against his chest. “This might help. Sometimes if you can feel someone else’s heartbeat, yours will try to match it. Maybe we can get yours to slow down a little.”

Shiro’s exhale was shaky, but Keith could feel the muscles in Shiro’s back relax as he finally rested his full weight against Keith. “There you go. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

“I might hurt you.”

Shiro seemed preoccupied with that idea. “You’re not hurting me at all.” Keith let out a slow breath. There were a few spots along his side where Shiro’s weight pressed against bruises from their fight, but the warmth of him actually felt comforting. 

Shiro nuzzled his cheek against Keith’s t-shirt, yawning. “You smell good.”

“It’s just soap.”

“No, like a tree. Or a mountain. LIke an icy ocean mountain lake.”

Clearly fever did a number on Shiro’s descriptive abilities. “Okay. Well, thanks.”

Shiro sighed, closing his eyes. “This is nice.”

Keith let his fingers drift along Shiro’s back, running light touches across his houlder blades. “You did it for me once,” he said. “It’s another thing from the list.”

“Tell me.”

“One thing I know about Shiro,” Keith said, “is that he knows how to take care of people when they’re hurting. After the Blades trials, I could barely even breathe. Everything just ached. We were on the way back to join the paladins and I was curled up, shaking. You came over and didn’t say a word, you just gathered me close to you and didn’t let go.” 

Shiro pressed a little closer. “You were so hurt. You didn’t want anyone to know.”

“You were so calm, so steady. I felt like I was losing everything, that you’d hate me because of who I was, but you never pulled away.” He remembered how gently Shiro had taken off his helmet, brushing blood and sweat from his forehead. How it was the first time since his dad died that someone had held him like he was something worth protecting. “That fight went on so long and when you did that, I finally knew it was over. I could stop.”

“I wanted to fight for you.” Shiro’s voice was soft, spoken against Keith’s shirt.

“You did. I wouldn’t have walked away that day if not for you. Or found out who I was.” 

“You’re Keith. You’re always Keith.” Shiro’s breathing was slower now, more even. “My Keith.”

Oh, my God. Keith opened his mouth but couldn’t figure out how to respond. It was the fever. And the drugs. Obviously. 

“M’tired.” Shiro made a small, sleepy sound against Keith’s chest. 

“You should sleep.”

Shiro hummed. “Your heartbeat is like a lullaby.”

“At least this way you know you’re not alone, yeah?” Keith whispered. 

Shiro didn’t answer, his body relaxing fully against Keith’s as he slid into slumber.

++

For a few quiet, peaceful hours, Shiro slept. 

Keith didn’t, but he wouldn’t have traded anything for the feeling of Shiro’s soft breaths against his ribs or the thump of his own heart under Shiro’s cheek. Sometimes Shiro trembled in his sleep, but when Keith curled an arm around him, he stopped, as if somehow Keith’s touch could calm him. 

For a moment, he let himself imagine that this was real, that _they_ were real. That Shiro loved him too. That they were just sleeping beside each other because that’s what they’d do every night, because they kept each other’s nightmares away, because they couldn’t stop laughing under the covers with shared jokes, because they’d worn each other out, leaving marks on each other’s skin. He tried to stop himself, but the images kept spinning out, of them back on Earth, of joy rides at sunset, Shiro’s hand in his, how it would feel to kiss Shiro, to touch and worship every inch of him. To know without a shadow of a doubt that Shiro was his, and he was Shiro’s. 

They were futile thoughts, of course, but even he wasn’t made from stone. Sometimes even painful dreams were worth it, even though they’d never come true. 

He might have dozed fitfully for a few minutes until his own traitorous bladder woke him, and Keith eased himself gently out from underneath Shiro, grabbing his comm and heading to the bathroom. He relieved himself and then called Coran from the head, bringing him up to speed. Coran praised him for taking such good care of Shiro and Keith shrugged, trying not to cry because he wasn’t good at taking care of people, not really. He ended the call and leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The paladins knew now, all of them, and they’d be relying on Keith to see Shiro through. 

The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, he knew something was wrong. Space wolf was whining again, hovering near the bed. “Shiro?”

Between the wolf’s whines, there was another sound, a series of thin gasps. As he approached the bed, he saw a splash of red on Shiro’s palm. His hand was sticky with blood. “Shiro! Oh, my God. What happened?”

Shiro looked at him, but Keith realized his gaze was unfocused, lost. “Keith.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“I just think I’m bleeding.” Shiro glanced at his hand passively, as if it wasn’t part of him. “I’m not actually. I can’t.”

“Why do you think you can’t?”

“Look around,” Shiro said. “None of this is real.”

Keith took Shiro’s palm gently, looking down to see a series of crescents pressed into the skin. He’d dug his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood. “Where do you think you are?” he asked.

“In Black,” Shiro said. He closed his eyes. Sweat poured off of him. “Did you know we have souls?”

“I,” Keith said, reaching for the medkit to find a bandage for Shiro’s hand. “Um, yes.” He’d never put much stock in anything like that before the night Shiro crash-landed at the Garrison, but ever since it was hard to deny that whether you wanted to call it metaphysical or supernatural or spiritual, the universe was very different than what he thought. Bigger. Weirder. Mystical. And that was just the Lions.

“I don’t want to float away,” Shiro said, voice dreamy. “There’s nothing here to hold on to.”

“You’ve got me,” Keith said, dabbing a bit of antiseptic on Shiro’s palm. 

“You’re not really here,” Shiro said, shaking his head. “I asked her. Sometimes she lets me see you. I keep asking her to bring you to me.”

“She did,” Keith said, bandaging his wounds. “She did, and we brought you back. You’re alive.”

Shiro seemed agitated by the conversation. He needed more meds, but Keith was afraid to try anything before getting Shiro to understand what was really happening. “No, I died.”

“I know,” Keith said. “But Allura brought your soul into your body and you’re alive now. Can you feel yourself breathing? Feel my hand holding your hand?”

Shiro released a long breath. “I’m alive right now?”

“You are.” Keith met his gaze, hoping somehow he could convey the truth in his touch or through his words, but Shiro shook his head.

He looked mournful. “This is just what I wish would happen. It’s not real.” He closed his eyes, turning his face away.

Keith pinned his lip between his teeth, watching Shiro’s vitals on the screen. His fever wasn’t getting worse, but his pulse was high and his blood pressure had dropped a little. “Shiro. You need to drink. You’re getting dehydrated.”

A dry laugh shook Shiro’s frame. “I’m not alive. I don’t need to drink.”

“You do.” Keith grabbed a water pouch, holding the straw up to his mouth. “Come on. Please.”

“No.” His tone was plaintive, voice shot. “I’m tired. Leave me alone.”

“Shiro.”

“Black,” Shiro said, eyes screwed shut. “Make it stop. He’s not real.”

“Please. Just a little sip.”

“Not real. Not real.” Shiro repeated the phrase to himself under his breath. 

Keith dragged a hand through his hair. His stomach twisted at the thought of Shiro alone on the astral plane and begging Black to bring Keith to him. When had Shiro seen him? Had Black actually shown Keith to Shiro? And what would he have seen? Keith missing all the signs that Shiro, the Shiro he’d known for years, wasn’t actually with them?

 _Fuck_. 

He dug through the medkit and found the hydration patches, opening them and peeling off the protective strips. They looked like big band-aids, except there wasn’t any patch of gauze; just some goopy-looking substance on the inside of the patch. Without asking, he pressed one to Shiro’s forearm, and then the other on Shiro’s abdomen, where his shirt rode up over his stomach. Shiro didn’t open his eyes, even though Keith knew he was still awake. 

“Just leave those on, okay? They’ll help you feel better.”

“Not. Real.” Shiro turned on his side, facing the wall. 

“Perfect,” Keith grunted, climbing off the bed and suppressing a scream. “Just fucking perfect.”

He wanted his mom. Or Allura. Or even Coran. Anyone who actually knew what the fuck they were doing. His comm banged against his thigh, secure in his pocket. He could call again, but then he had to explain how Shiro thought he was in the fucking astral plane and what could they even do about that? He’d given the medicine. He watched Shiro’s numbers rise and fall and rise again. He was doing his best and unless there was a goddamn space hospital somewhere nearby, there wasn’t any more he could do to help Shiro.

Grabbing himself a water pouch, he drank the entire thing in one gulp. The last time he’d eaten something was on Tamilon 15, but he wasn’t hungry. Mostly he just felt frustrated and exhausted. He shoved his hands in his pockets, dragging his feet out to the cockpit. Maybe if he watched the stars for a while he could calm down, slow the rush of breath in his lungs. The constant hum of Black’s engines was a soothing white noise, soft and reassuring. Before him, the entire universe spread out, dark and glorious. Sometimes it scared him to see such a vast tapestry of beautiful, dangerous unknown, but mostly it steadied him. Reminded him that he had a place in the universe and it was here.

He’d crossed galaxies, traveled on a space whale, found out he wasn’t fully human, defeated a tyrant. He’d spent his entire life trying to feel like he belonged somewhere, and through everything, there was only one constant: the only place he ever felt truly himself was by Shiro’s side. 

Keith rested a hand on Black’s console, murmuring his thanks. He couldn’t possibly contain his gratitude for her. She loved him, differently than Keith did, but at least as fiercely. Without her, Shiro would have been beyond saving. Without her, Keith’s world would have collapsed like a dying star.

There was so much he wanted to say to her, a litany of gratefulness. The amazing thing about her was that he didn’t have to. She just _knew._ He didn’t think she could read his thoughts--God help her if she could, given the number of times he’d jacked off in the bathroom to thoughts of Shiro’s abs and thighs and everything else--but maybe more like sense his emotions. 

If so, Black knew that Keith loved Shiro. It was weird that a magic space lion knew about the love of his life, but then, he guessed probably Red did too. Sometimes he wondered if the lions gossiped about them. He wouldn’t blame them if they did. 

It was a wild idea to know that stars lit the entire way home and yet, it would take far longer than any of them had anticipated to get there. The lions would get them there, but they weren’t exactly meant to travel so slowly. He missed the Castle of Lions. He missed the wormholes, the sparring rooms, the room to breathe even recycled air, and even the damn healing pods. If they’d had one right now, Shiro would already be well. Keith rubbed his palms over his biceps, suddenly chilly. Black had lowered the temperature, but lying next to Shiro, Keith hadn’t felt anything but warm. 

An insistent beep sounded from the cabin and Keith wrinkled his nose. It wasn’t a sound he knew, but he’d been on enough ships by now to know that unfamiliar noises were never a harbinger of good. “Shiro?”

The closer he got to the cabin, the louder it got. “Shiro.” Keith glanced around the space, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. A red light started to blink on the screen on the wall, followed by the words: _O2 sats dropping._

 _Temperature: 104.5 F_ _  
_ _Pulse: 167  
__Blood Pressure: 91/58  
__Respiration: 25  
__O2: 89%_

Shiro was still lying on his side, but a quiet, wheezing sound came from the bed. Keith flew to him, turning him gently onto his back. “Shiro, talk to me.”

His chest heaved and a creeping red rash sprayed along his arm and on his side. His chin tipped up a little, mouth open, his panicked eyes blinking up at Keith. “Can’t,” he gasped, “breathe.”

A memory surfaced of Pidge in the Garrison mess hall. She’d eaten a plate of mangoes when her gleeful expression suddenly turned sour, clutching at her neck. The rash. The breathing. He’d gone with her to the medbay, and they rushed to give her medication. “Oh, my god.” The patches. He was allergic to the patches. Keith yanked both of them off, using a blanket to wipe off the excess goo left behind. “Shit. Okay. Okay.” 

Shiro stared at him, his throat convulsing, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He was six foot four and massive, but suddenly he looked smaller, vulnerable. “Can’t,” he repeated, his fingers scrabbling against his throat. Keith wanted to gather him to his chest and just hold him, but that was the last thing Shiro needed right now. 

“Shiro. Look at me,” Keith said, forcing authority into his voice that he didn’t feel. “You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.” For a brief second, he grabbed Shiro’s wrist and squeezed before he flung open the second drawer of the medkit. He remembered Coran’s lecture, knew there was something in the kit that functioned like an epi-pen, but if he picked the wrong one, it could harm Shiro further. With his other hand, he tapped his comm, signaling Coran.

The comm chirped. “Ah. Keith. How’s our pat--”

“Which one is the epi-pen?” he shouted, the contents of the medkit scattering across the bed. 

“The what?”

God, what was the real word? “The needle thing! Epi-pen! For allergic reaction! Epinephrine!” His father would be proud he remembered after helping him study for EMT training all those years ago. 

“Is Shiro having an allergic reaction?” 

“Fuck, yes! Coran! Which one is it? He can’t breathe!” He held up a handful of intradermal pens, his hands shaking. Every second was precious and Shiro’s desperate wheezes filled the room. “Now!”

“Right. Red one! Just hold it against his thigh and press the button for 10 ticks.”

Keith nodded, positioning himself next to Shiro. Shiro’s gasps came so fast that Keith wasn’t sure he was getting any air. “This will help, okay?” He used one hand to press on Shiro’s thick thigh, holding it steady. “Just stay still.” He pressed the red pen against the muscle, pressing the button and praying, to the universe, to Black, to God, that Shiro would be okay. 

He counted, numbers shaking through his lips as he whispered them, hovering above Shiro and holding tight to the tiny shard of metal in his hand. There were some cadets in the Garrison who were addicted to some medical drama and people were always nearly dying and the camera would zoom in on their faces as they cried and pleaded that their loved ones would survive whatever injury of the week had ensued. Keith didn’t spend much time in the lounge, partly because he couldn’t stand shows like that and partly because it just seemed so ridiculous, the way their voices warbled as they clutched at hospital gowns and confessed undying love over the beep of monitors.

Except right now, he did want to clutch Shiro’s shirt and he did want to confess undying love, but this wasn’t television and Shiro wasn’t magically healed as soon as the ten ticks was up. He dropped the pen, his hand smoothing over Shiro’s laboring chest. “His breathing isn’t any better,” Keith managed to grit out between his teeth.

Coran’s voice was annoyingly patient in a way that Keith found maddening. “It’ll take a couple of minutes for the medication to work. Keith, at the bottom of the medkit, there’s an oxygen system. Can you find it?”

Keith held up a clear, lightweight mask. “All I found was this.”

“That’s it. If you push the button on the side of it, it’ll start drawing from the atmosphere and deliver pure oxygen.”

Keith nodded, tilting Shiro’s head in his direction. “Hey, buddy. You’re doing great. I’m going to help you with your breathing a little bit, all right? Coran said giving you some oxygen will make it easier on you.” He held up the mask, but Shiro wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were half-lidded, his breaths little more than weak pants. “Okay. Just going to pop this on and get you breathing better.”

He slipped the mask over Shiro’s nose and mouth, hitting the button on the side. Immediately the mask glowed a light blue, and it reformed itself to perfectly fit Shiro’s face as it whirred quietly to life.

Moments later, Shiro’s eyes shot open, pupils blown wide. The cry that ripped out of him was nothing short of primal, lancing fear into Keith’s chest. His spine arched as he struggled to move, his lone hand desperately clutching at the mask.

“Wait, you need to leave it there,” Keith said, trying to gently pull Shiro’s hand back, but Shiro flailed, a panicked scream making the mask go white with his breath. 

“No!” Shiro tried to turn on his side and roll away from Keith, but Keith was quicker and he held Shiro in place, overpowering him. 

“Shiro, calm down, just breathe,” he said, trying to smooth a palm over Shiro’s hair, but Shiro started pulling at the mask again, making the system blink red lights along its side.

“Not again, not again,” Shiro cried, clutching his fingers at the edge of the mask.

Keith steadied himself with a breath, grabbing Shiro’s forearm and pulling it away. “It’s just oxygen, just for a few minutes, please, okay?”

His hopes that Shiro might calm were dashed as Shiro squirmed away, trying to yank his arm free. All this flailing and thrashing was only going to tax his system further. Keith swung one leg over Shiro’s waist and pinned him with his hips, using one arm to pull Shiro’s wrist away from the mask and the other to press down on Shiro’s chest.

Like the true paladin he was, Shiro kept fighting, his muscles shaking with the effort. At first, Keith had to use all his strength to keep Shiro in place, but the struggle ended far more quickly than their last battle. Under his palm, Shiro’s breaths were a faint tattoo as his panicked heartbeat sent out its own distress signal. “You have to stop fighting,” Keith said, pouring every ounce of care he could into his voice. “Shiro, stop.”

Shiro looked straight into Keith’s face, thin tracks of tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes were huge. _Scared._ “Please,” he pleaded, voice rasping behind the mask. “Let me go. Please, Keith.” His voice broke when Shiro said his name. “They’re going to hurt me. Don’t let them hurt me. Don’t hurt me.”

Suddenly Keith realized the comm was still on, that Coran was privy to their conversation. “Black,” he grunted. “Comm off.” The device chirped off and Keith returned his focus to Shiro. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Shiro shuddered a gasp, his body trembling under Keith’s hands. Keith would have done anything to calm him. “It hurts. Please. Make it stop.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I promise,” Keith said, wanting to let one hand go to touch Shiro, to try to offer a soothing gesture, but he knew if he moved that Shiro would be thrashing again. “I know this feels awful and you’re scared but I promise I would never hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me.” Shiro drew a ragged breath. “Keith. I trusted you, I trusted--”

Keith’s own throat felt like it was closing up. “Listen.” His voice came out hard-edged and sharp when all he wanted was to be kind. “You need oxygen. You’re in danger. Stop fighting me. Stop fighting the mask. You hear me?” 

“Make it stop. Let me go!” There wasn’t a way to reason with him, Keith realized, as Shiro fought back with everything he had. Even exhausted, one-armed, and barely able to breathe, Shiro was formidable. Keith pressed down harder, struggling to keep Shiro in place. He tasted blood in his mouth, iron on his tongue. He’d bitten the inside of his cheek. 

When Shiro’s body finally relaxed under his hands, his tight muscles slack and his head falling to the side, it wasn’t because he gave in and surrendered. 

He’d passed out. He was the Champion, after all.

Keith gasped for breath, panting hard from the effort as he slowly climbed off of Shiro’s still frame. On the screen over the bed, he saw the change in Shiro’s vitals: his blood pressure and oxygen levels were coming back up. It didn’t stop him from resting his palm on Shiro’s chest, sensing the rise of his breath, the beat of his heart. Some things he needed to feel to know for certain. 

He slid off the edge of the bed to the floor, still clutching Shiro’s wrist, when the first sob broke over him. Shiro’s words reverberated in his mind. _You’re hurting me. I trusted you._ The outright fear in Shiro’s eyes, the way his muscles trembled from more than just fever, made Keith’s chest tighten. He pressed his free hand over his mouth, trying to stifle the cry working its way out of him as he clutched Shiro’s wrist, feeling the bones beneath the skin. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, voice gutted. “I’m sorry.”

God, he knew that Shiro had flashbacks of his time in captivity. He’d only mentioned it once, during a quick mission the two of them had taken in Red in the early days. They were heading back to join the others after a fruitless mission looking for some ore that Coran wanted on an asteroid, and they’d gotten into a conversation about how hard it was to sleep in space. Shiro had taken off his helmet, revealing pale, pallored skin, and he said the last time he’d slept, he was sure he was back with Haggar. He’d shuddered and said he didn’t want to close his eyes. As soon as Shiro brought it up, he deflected, refusing to answer Keith’s questions and asked about him instead. That was Shiro’s way; don’t pay attention to me, tell me more about you. 

Keith had never actually seen one of Shiro’s hallucinations and it was so much worse than he could imagine. 

He didn’t have to wonder anymore what Shiro had looked like when Haggar’s druids had strapped him to a table and cut into him, the cries he would have made when the pain grew unbearable. Keith’s breaths came as dragged sobs, tears streaming down his face. How was it possible that someone could survive such torture and still be able to smile, to rally his team, to lead fucking Voltron? How could you come back from being treated like a lab animal, only to try to save the universe? How could Shiro be so deeply _good?_

And now he’d made Shiro afraid of him. He’d used his Galra strength to hold him down and make him submit, even though he was trying to save his life. Keith’s comm chirped; another message from Coran. He couldn’t bear to signal him back, couldn’t bear to admit what a failure he was at taking care of the person he loved most in the universe. 

Space wolf snuffled at Keith’s neck, pressing his shaggy head against Keith’s. “Hey, buddy,” he said, leaning into his fur. There was so much he didn’t know about his wolf, but he was convinced his species had some kind of emotional sensitivity; anytime he was upset or alarmed, space wolf appeared, sometimes literally. “You shouldn’t be worried about me. Shiro’s the one who deserves your attention.” The wolf snorted. 

After rubbing his wrist over his eyes roughly to stem the flow of his tears, he used his free hand to scratch around the wolf’s muzzle. Sometimes he was envious of the ability to disappear at will, to just slip into another place when things got out of control. 

An emergency alarm rang through the cabin; Coran was using the override channel to hail him. Keith let out a shaky breath and tipped his head back against the bed. “You can patch him through, Black. Audio only.”

“Keith!” Coran’s voice was higher-pitched, on the edge of panic. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah.” Keith closed his eyes against the headache forming behind his lids. “Everything is fucking great.”

Coran’s exhale was audible. “Can you be a little more specific?”

There was no way in hell he was describing the horrific scene that just played out. “He got the epinephrine and the oxygen. He fainted.” Keith’s thumb rubbed gently against Shiro’s wrist, still held in his hand. “He’s still out.”

“His vitals improved, so that’s good news.” Coran sighed. “I’m sorry about the hydration patches. That must have been a very unpleasant surprise for you both.”

“There’s no way you could have known.”

“Keith.” Coran paused for a moment, long enough that Keith wondered if the connection had failed. “You sound tired.”

A dry laugh escaped Keith’s throat. “Yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking and if I take the proper precautions, I believe it’s possible that I could come to Black and not put myself at as high of a risk.”

For a half second, Keith debated it. He was exhausted and the crying jag had only served to make him feel more like he’d been punched. It would be such a relief to hand off the situation to someone who really knew what they were doing. 

At that moment, inside the circle of his fingers, Shiro’s wrist suddenly flexed and Keith started. He was waking up. “No. We’re okay. I don’t want to put you or the others in danger.” He pushed himself up, wincing from the uncomfortable position he’d taken on the floor. “I said I’d take care of him and I can’t go back on that promise.”

“No one would ever think that of you.”

“Listen, I think he’s coming to. I’ll signal you later. Keith out.”

Shiro let out a small whine, his expression tightening. Before he could open his eyes, Keith reached out and touched the mask still attached to Shiro’s face and disengaged it with a puff of air. Shiro’s sats were nearly back to normal and Keith couldn’t bear to see the mask on him for another moment. He set the offensive device to the side, unsure what to do with his hands. “Hey,” Keith said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Tears threatened to overflow and he wiped at his eyes. “There you are.”

Dark gray eyes flickered open, unfocused at first. “Keith.” The way Shiro said his name, so soft and thin, made Keith’s heart lose its pace. He blinked again, staring at him. “Are you crying?”

Keith’s lungs caught. This was a more lucid version of Shiro than he was expecting. He glanced at Shiro’s vitals and saw his temperature was coming down, barely 100. “Don’t worry about me. How do you feel?”

“Hurts.” Shiro dragged a breath through his teeth.

Keith sat on the edge of the bed, close but not touching. “What hurts?”

The smallest quiver of a smile touched Shiro’s mouth. “Everything.”

“Oh.” Coran had warned him about this. He’d almost forgotten. “I can get you more pain medicine. It might ease it a bit.” Keith reached for the medkit, but Shiro stopped him, his palm resting on Keith’s forearm.

“S’okay.”

“No, Shiro, it’s not okay. I can help.” God, he couldn’t remember all the medications and when he’d given them. He should have written everything down. Apparently he should have gone to fucking medical school where he could actually learn how to save Shiro properly. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

What he wanted to say was, _I don’t want to hurt you_. Because he had. And the memory of Shiro’s scream, of his panicked struggle, was almost enough to make Keith’s eyes glaze over with tears again. 

“It’s not that bad,” Shiro said, hissing as he curled on his side, closer to Keith. His hair was sticky and his shirt was damp enough with sweat that it clung to his ribs. “I mean, it’s kinda bad. But not the worst.”

“Coran said it could get really awful.” He grabbed the intradermal spray to relieve pain from the medkit. “Let me give you this at least.”

Shiro gave a tight nod and Keith gave him the medicine, hoping Shiro didn’t notice the way his hands shook. “Did that,” he asked a few moments later, “do anything?”

Shiro’s expression softened by a fraction. “Took a bit of the edge off. Thanks.” 

Keith gripped the bed frame, ready to bolt. He shouldn’t be close to Shiro right now. Whatever comforting presence Keith had offered was shattered now. “Maybe I should let you rest. Let you be. I can go to the cockpit and give you some quiet.”

Shiro let out a soft groan. “Wait. No. Don’t leave.” His hand flung out weakly, catching Keith’s wrist. “Please.”

“I didn’t think you’d,” Keith blurted, tripping over his words. “After what happened with the oxygen, I…” he stuttered to a stop. Shiro was in agony and he didn’t need Keith going on an apology tour or an exploration of his own feelings right now. “I’m sorry. You’re hurt and sick and I’m talking about me.” He straightened up. “What can I do? What do you need?”

“I…” Shiro’s chest rose and fell in a long exhale, and he closed his eyes, squeezing Keith’s wrist. His voice was barely a whisper. “Keith, please, I just...just hold me.”

“You want me to,” he said, “lie down here and hold you?” Shiro nodded, as if he wasn’t sure he could ask again. “Oh. Okay. Okay. I can do that.”

He positioned himself next to Shiro, arranging the messy bed clothes as best he could before reaching out and pulling Shiro into his arms, drawing him gently against his chest. Shiro’s warmth bloomed all along Keith’s body. His cheek nuzzled against Keith as his muscles, rigid with pain, relaxed just a touch. 

“Is,” Keith asked, voice quiet so as not to startle Shiro. “Is this okay?”

Shiro’s sigh traveled through his frame. “It’s perfect.”

For a long moment, there was just the low hum of Black’s engines and their soft breathing. Shiro’s pulse tapped against Keith’s ribs, its tempo settling out at something more like a pop song than a club remix. It felt so good to have his arms around Shiro, just to feel the solid weight of him against his chest. There were so many times he’d ached for this kind of closeness, times where Shiro had been a galaxy away, lost to him. It was enough, Keith decided. It was enough to have him close enough to hold. 

Shiro broke the silence, his breath a soft puff as he let out a groan. “My brain has been so weird and fuzzy. And, like, I have this really strong feeling that there's something I'm supposed to tell you, but I can't remember what it is.”

Keith’s palm cupped the back of Shiro’s head, fingers lightly curling against his scalp. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll come to you. Just rest, okay?”

His body tensed, muscles straining as he winced. “Yeah. God. The pain just kind of comes over me in these waves.”

“I’m so sorry,” Keith said, trying to keep his voice low and gentle. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Can you,” Shiro asked, his voice husky, “tell me another thing? From your list?”

“You like hearing those, huh?” Keith said, a fond smile coming over his lips as he lightly smoothed his palm over Shiro’s back, trying to soothe the tight muscles there. “There are so many to choose from. Let me think.” Keith drew a deep breath, breathing in calm. “Okay. One thing I know about Shiro is that you always know how to make everyone on your team feel like they’re the most important one. When we solved a problem or did a good job, you praised us. Even when we screwed up, you found something positive to say. We all just wanted to make you proud.” Keith stopped, clearing his throat, hoping he could get out the words without getting choked up. “Because when Shiro tells you how much you matter to him, it changes you.” 

“Oh.” Shiro took a breath, and another. The quiet spun out past comfortable silence.

God, he’d taken it too far. “Sorry. I guess that one was a little sappy.”

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“I can give you another one. A funny one, maybe. Okay. I got it. There was that one time where--”

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice was a plea.

“What’s wrong?” Keith felt Shiro’s forehead, wondering if the fever was coming back, but his skin felt almost cool.

“You,” Shiro gathered himself, his arm tightening around Keith. “You know how much you matter to me.”

“Yeah.” Keith said. “Of course I do.”

“I care about them all. All the paladins.” Shiro trembled in Keith’s arms. Of course he cared. Shiro was their leader, their rallying cry. “But Keith, you were always the most important. You are the most important.”

“Oh.” Keith said. Because Shiro wanted him to lead Voltron if anything ever happened to him. He swallowed. “Okay.”

“The most important,” Shiro repeated. “To me.”

 _I crossed a universe for you. I broke into the astral plane for you. I fought for you, bled for you, nearly died for you, just to save you one more time._ “You’re,” Keith whispered, “the most important to me, too.”

Shiro let out a whine, tensing against Keith as a wave of pain wracked his body, and Keith held him through it, smoothing his hands over Shiro’s back. “Something happened,” Shiro said, eyes screwed shut, “and I can’t remember if it’s real.”

“Okay.” Keith tried to keep his voice calm. “Was it a good something or a bad something?”

Shiro’s voice was tight, hushed. “It was good. It was everything.”

“But you’re not sure if it happened.”

“It’s so hard. I can’t tell.” 

It must be so frustrating to not know which memories were real and which weren’t, which ones were yours and which belonged to another version of you. Keith’s heart broke for Shiro, for how much he’d lost. “Do you want to ask me? Maybe I would know if it was real."

Shiro pressed his face into Keith’s shirt. “What if I’m wrong? What if I made it up?”

“I’m sure if it’s good, it’ll happen for you. You deserve all good things, Shiro.”

Shiro rode out another wave of pain, shuddering a little before it passed. “Honestly, the not knowing is worse than this pain.”

Keith ran his fingers through Shiro’s damp hair gently. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I,” Shiro started, his palm gripping Keith’s hip as if the gravity system was failing. “You said something to me.”

_Oh, my God._

“You said you,” Shiro paused, as if he couldn't’ believe it, “loved me.”

The look in Kuron’s eyes, that flash of recognition. He’d heard. Somehow, Shiro remembered.

“Did you say it?”

“I did.” Keith felt like his own soul was halfway to the astral plane.

Shiro exhaled, pulling him closer. “It was real. Holy shit.” He gave a soft laugh. “That’s what I needed to tell you. That’s what’s been making me crazy.”

 _Oh_. “Well, um, I’m glad you figured it out.”

“Keith, no,” Shiro said, his voice getting wobbly. “What I needed to tell you was that I love you, too.” 

He tried to open his mouth, to move at all, but Keith was frozen, pinned in place. Even dragging in a breath was nearly impossible. He’d dreamed of hearing those words for so long, but suddenly, it seemed unreal. Shiro, loving him back? Just like that?

Shiro’s hand rubbed gently along Keith’s side. “Um, Keith? Are you okay? Your, uh, heart just started beating really fast.”

It had. Keith felt lightheaded, pulse racing hard enough he could feel it in his throat. If he hadn’t been lying down already, he was pretty sure he would have ended up on the floor. “Shiro, you,” he finally managed, “you do?”

“Is this, like, good freaking out or bad freaking out?” Shiro sounded afraid of the answer.

“I’m not freaking out. I mean, I am. But, Shiro, it’s good. It’s good.” Keith pushed himself up against the pillows, trying to see Shiro more clearly. “Holy shit, you love me back?”

Shiro lifted his head, nodding, his eyes bright with tears. “I told you so many times in the astral plane. I lost count. But you couldn’t hear me. And when I woke up everything was such a mess in my head. But I finally remembered.”

Keith shook his head. “I thought… I thought the memory was lost.” His throat tightened. “Or that you didn’t want to talk about it if you did.”

“Keith, when you told me, you saved me. You were brave enough to say what I couldn’t.” The sound he made was between a laugh and a sob. “I love you so much.”

“This isn’t the fever talking, right? Promise me this isn’t the fever,” Keith said, allowing himself to touch Shiro’s cheek. 

“It’s not.” Shiro pointed up at the monitor on the wall. “See?”

Keith gently cupped Shiro’s jaw. “Okay. I believe you.” He kissed him, a soft, grateful first kiss borne out of fragile hope and tenacious longing. It wasn’t the passionate, perfect kiss he’d dreamed about. It was tentative and shaky and more precious than anything Keith could have ever imagined. 

They broke apart, still clinging to each other. Shiro fell against Keith, a soft sigh escaping him, and Keith pressed his cheek over Shiro’s hair. “This,” Shiro said, “this is all I ever wanted. Just you and me.”

Keith pulled him a little closer. “You and me,” he repeated, just to hear the sound of the words, just to start to believe them himself. 

“Do you mind if I tell you again? Because I need to.” Shiro looked up, his gray eyes a perfect storm. “I love you, Keith. I love you. I love you.”

Keith's throat burned and he hiccuped a laugh. “How many times are you going to tell me?” 

Shiro grinned. “As many times as it takes.”

Their second kiss was longer than the first, and once it started, Keith didn’t want it to stop. He wanted to live the rest of his life in Shiro’s warmth, to feel the thrum of his heart, to know that Shiro was truly, utterly his. 

When Shiro finally pulled back to breathe, he squeezed Keith’s bicep. “I promise I can do better. I’m a much better kisser when I’m not, you know, suffering from space flu.”

“You’re good at everything you do.” Keith pressed a kiss against his forehead, because he could kiss him. He was never going to be over the fact he could kiss Shiro. “Even with space flu.”

Shiro reached for Keith’s hand, twining their fingers together. “You’re so, so pretty.”

“Shiro.” Keith pulled at the front of his own shirt. “I smell terrible. I haven’t washed my hair in days.”

“I promise I’ve never seen anything better in my life.” 

“Now, see, that’s what I always say about you.”

Shiro had the audacity to blush and Keith nearly lost his mind. “Keith.”

“You had better get used to a ton of fucking compliments because you, Takashi Shirogane, are perfect, you hear me?”

“I’m not even close.”

“You’re perfect. I’m going to tell you every single day. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Shiro tilted his head and met his eyes. “Fallen completely in love with you?”

“Exactly. And now you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.” He kissed Shiro again, completely floored that it was happening, and that it would happen now with startling regularity. 

Under Keith’s hands, he felt Shiro’s back muscles tighten as another wave of pain came over him. “Hey, careful there,” he said softly, smoothing his palms between Shiro’s shoulder blades. “Just relax. It’s okay.” 

“I want to kiss you,” Shiro said, wincing. “Be close to you. Touch you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I want you better, all right? You need to heal. You need water and rest. You’ve been through so much.”

Shiro pressed his mouth against Keith’s neck. “You’re everything I need.”

“That’s sweet, but also,” Keith said, grabbing a water pouch from beside the bed. “You’re still dehydrated. I need you to drink.”

Shiro accepted the water, sipping obediently until it was gone. “You take such good care of me.”

Keith smoothed his hand over Shiro’s spine. “I always will. I promise.” Adjusting the pillows underneath him, he gently slid them back down into a reclining position on the mattress. Shiro followed, curled on his side, head back on Keith’s chest. “You sure that’s comfortable?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Shiro let out a quiet exhale. “I like being close to your heart.”

Keith carded his fingers through Shiro’s hair, drawing circles over his temples. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

“I can’t wait to show you how much.”

“Me too.” Shiro’s body felt so good against him, the solid pressure and warmth of it, that Keith felt the gravitational pull of sleep. The adrenaline high was leveling off, leaving Keith floored and lovestruck and completely exhausted. “How’s your pain? Do you think you can rest?”

“I think so,” he said, voice breathy and hushed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

“Dream about me,” Shiro said, nuzzling against his chest.

“You’re the only thing I dream about.”

Keith dreamt of Shiro’s arms around him, of stars and galaxies, of speeding off a cliff with Shiro pressed against his back, and this time, they didn’t fall, they flew. 

  
  


++

Keith woke up with his face smashed against Shiro’s chest, feeling the gentle thump of Shiro’s heart along his cheek, slower in sleep. For a tick, he started to panic--he wasn’t supposed to be this close, what would Shiro think--until the tidal wave of memories from earlier swept over him. 

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

He stirred, twisting his hips a little, and discovered a warm weight on his ass. He flushed, trying not to let out a strangled laugh when he realized Shiro had slid his hand under the waistband of Keith’s shorts, palm splayed over one cheek. 

It was, Keith decided, the best way he’d ever woken up in his entire life. 

Shiro’s breathing was soft and deep, his mouth slightly open and his chin tipped up on the pillow. He looked like a Garrison cadet passed out after a long night of flight testing, or maybe too much to drink. Keith had been close to Shiro enough times to know how incredible his chest felt, but to be nuzzled against it, curled along Shiro’s side, felt like something out of his wildest dreams. Everything about Shiro was solid and so warm. He worried for a moment about Shiro’s temperature, but when he glanced at the wall to check, he saw Shiro’s fever had finally broken and his vitals were steady and normal. He slid his arm over Shiro’s waist, careful to keep his movements gentle and slow, and even though all he wanted to do was kiss every inch of skin in front of him, he resisted. Let the man rest. 

He felt his own breath start to sync with Shiro’s, feeling nearly drunk on how perfect their bodies aligned under the blankets. Closing his eyes, he felt a grin slip onto his face, a laugh of pure joy rising in his throat. Shiro _loved him_ . The person that he loved the most in the entire universe _loved him._ He had the overwhelming urge to let out a whoop, like the first time he’d take Red into a dive and spun out at the last moment. He felt like a can of shaken soda, all fizz and bubbles, ready to explode. 

This was what love felt like when they wanted you back. When you were all they could think about, too. When it filled you up like oxygen, covering you in starlight. 

It felt like magic. 

After a few minutes of Keith nearly vibrating with memories of the night before, Shiro gave an absurdly adorable snort and stirred next to him. He blinked, tilting his head to look at Keith. “Hi,” he said, his voice rough and his smile shy. 

“Hi,” Keith said, pulling him a bit closer.

“My hand’s on your ass,” Shiro said, letting out a sleepy laugh before giving it the lightest of squeezes. “Good morning.”

Keith snickered against his shirt. “Is this the kind of romance I was promised earlier?”

“Definitely. Wait until I get two hands.”

Keith reached up, smoothing a thumb over Shiro’s cheekbone. “Your fever’s gone. How are you feeling?”

“A little better. Pain’s not so bad.” Shiro slipped his hand under Keith’s top, tracing fingers along his back. “Mostly I just feel really weak.”

“It’s okay. You haven’t eaten for a few days, and you were still getting used to your new body before you even got sick.” Keith pressed a kiss over the bridge of Shiro’s nose, against his scar. “It’ll take some time before you’re back on your feet, but you’ll get there.” 

Shiro studied him, a surprised look on his face. “That was new.”

“What do you mean? The kiss?”

“Yes, I mean, that’s new too, but,” Shiro swallowed. “I just told you that I felt weak, which I don’t think I’ve said out loud to anyone since,” he stopped. “It just came out of my mouth.”

Keith traced the outline of his face with gentle fingertips. “I’m glad you trust me that much.”

Shiro flushed. “I do.”

Before Keith could say something sweet in response, his stomach gave out the loudest growl of perhaps his entire adult life. Shiro immediately covered Keith’s abdomen with his hand, as if he could soothe it. “Keith, holy shit. When’s the last time you had something to eat?”

“Um, you won’t like the answer.”

“Keith!”

“I wasn’t hungry! You were so sick and I was worried and I wasn’t even hungry for a second.” 

“It’s been days.” Shiro looked scandalized.

“I know.” Keith flushed, leaning off the side of the bed to dig around in the med kit. There were some kind of protein-bar facsimiles in there. “Just so we’re clear, this is something you should probably kind of get used to. When I’m really worried, I kind of lose my appetite.” He unwrapped two bars, handing one to Shiro. “Especially where you’re concerned.”

Shiro accepted the bar, his expression tight. “You mean, like, times before.”

“Apparently Mom said it’s some kind of Galra thing. They, well, we, I guess, when we get really sad or upset sometimes we kinda do a hunger strike mode. I did it on the space whale for a while, because I couldn’t get back to you, and I just missed you so much. And like, well. We won’t talk about Kerberos. Or when I was looking for you. But yeah.”

“You get so sad you don’t eat?” Shiro looked like he might start to cry.

“It’s okay, our metabolisms do some kind of thing that helps us manage it. But yeah. Anyway.” He took a bite of the protein bar, and even though it tasted like fake cocoa, he didn’t care. “Oh, my God. I’m starving.” He chuckled a little as he chewed. “So this is the other side of it, the after, where I just want to devour every bit of food in a ten-mile radius.”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m really fine, I promise.” He finished his bar and dug in the kit for another. 

“You gotta eat, okay? Oh, I’ll get you some water, too.” He wished they had more food options, but he hadn’t sent space wolf around to Hunk since Shiro had gotten sick. 

Shiro took little bites of his bar, washing them down with a water pouch. “Is it weird that these don’t taste that bad?”

“We’re starving. Also, I think I’ve forgotten what actual cocoa tastes like.”

“I remember,” Shiro said fondly. “I remember it all. Especially chocolate. And coffee. Oh, my God, what I would do for a coffee.”

Keith leaned comfortably against him as he took another big bite of protein bar. “I miss coffee, too. You know what else I miss? Burritos smothered with guacamole and extra hot salsa, with chips crispy from the fryer with salt and lime.” His mouth watered at the memory, craving the burn on the back of his tongue, the crunch of the tortillas. 

Shiro nudged Keith’s thigh with his knee. “Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you go out with me for burritos when we get back to Earth?”

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

“Good.” Shiro let out a soft sigh. “I want to do everything with you.”

Keith pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Sign me up.”

“Can I,” Shiro said, a little soft, “ask you for a favor?”

“Anything.”

“I don’t know if I can make it to the bathroom on my own.”

“Oh, God. Sorry! I should have thought of that. Yes. Of course.” Keith swept away Shiro’s hair from his forehead before he sat up. “Why don’t you let me clean you up? I always feel so much better after a fever when I get a bath.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve got you.” Keith stood, helping Shiro get to his feet. He was unsteady and his knees buckled once but Keith caught him easily, keeping him upright. “Just take your time.”

“Holy shit,” Shiro said, gripping Keith’s arm. 

“How’s the pain?”

Shiro’s response came out through gritted teeth. “It’s great.”

Keith helped Shiro maneuver into the bathroom, making sure he could prop himself up next to the toilet. “Are you, uh, okay for this part?”

Shiro nodded. “I think I can handle this. Do you think you could get me, um, some more of the painkiller?”

“I’ll be right back.” Keith zipped out, grabbing another intradermal spray from the medkit and some fresh towels before knocking on the door frame. “You all right?”

“Mission accomplished.” Shiro was drying his hand on the towel over the sink. “You sure you don’t mind helping me?”

“I always like helping you.” Keith set the towels on the counter and started filling the tub with hot water. He wondered how on earth Black made it so that the normally tiny tub was now big enough that they could both fit into it, but then he realized if she could transform into a massive robot to defend the universe, a bathtub enlargement was nothing in comparison. He patted the bathroom wall, trying to communicate some level of gratitude to her. Black loved Shiro so much that even making sure he’d be comfortable in the small things never left her radar. 

“I’ll get you the painkiller, okay?” He administered the medication before reaching out to wrap his arms around Shiro, hoping it would work quickly for him. He held Shiro against him, feeling the weight of him, overwhelmed at the press of their bodies as Shiro breathed. “There you go. Let me take care of you, baby.” Shiro’s exhale stuttered at the word and Keith pulled back a little. “Whoops. That just slipped out.”

“Keith.”

Maybe Shiro didn’t like pet names. “Not your thing?”

Shiro sighed. “So, so my thing.”

“My romantic boy.” Keith smiled, pressing a kiss over Shiro’s heart. “Can I undress you?”

Shiro nodded, and Keith peeled off his t-shirt, revealing the faded remnants of the rash from the day before in light red dots across his arm and abdomen. The bruises on his right shoulder and around his port no longer looked so fierce. His hand was still bandaged and Keith removed the gauze, glad to see the wound was closed and healing. He gently pulled Shiro’s pants down, followed by his underwear, and despite his attempts to look elsewhere, he couldn’t help but get a glimpse of Shiro’s impressive dick nestled between muscular thighs. Even though he longed to stare, he shifted his focus and returned his gaze to meet Shiro’s, hoping to put him at ease. It wasn’t easy for him to ask for help. “Doing okay?”

“This, um, wasn’t exactly how I thought it would be,” Shiro said, knees shaking a little as he held onto Keith’s shoulder for support. “You know. Getting naked in front of you for the first time.”

“I’m not making you nervous, am I?” Keith ducked his chin. “It’s just me.” He held Shiro’s hand, steadying him as he carefully climbed into the bath. 

“You’re kind of a big deal.” Shiro sank into the water, tipping his head back against the lip of the tub. “Don’t wanna disappoint you. Even with space flu.”

“You could never disappoint me.” Keith came around the side of the tub, gathering up body wash and shampoo. They smelled like some kind of fruit that Keith had never eaten, some kind of mashup of strawberries, pineapple, and peaches. “Just relax and let the hot water work on your muscles a bit.”

Shiro exhaled, closing his eyes. “This feels so good.”

Keith knelt beside the tub, cupping his hands to smooth warm water over Shiro’s starlight hair. “Let me wash your hair for you.” 

“I don’t know how I feel about my hair,” Shiro said, eyes shut as Keith leaned over the edge and started working the fruit-scented shampoo into his scalp. “I miss the black.”

“Black is your color,” Keith said fondly, using gentle circular motions along Shiro’s skin. “But the white suits you, too.”

“You think I should dye it when we get back home?”

Home. What a thought. Just the word hardly registered in Keith’s mind. “I think that you’ll look gorgeous no matter what, because you always do.”

“You don’t think the white makes me look old?”

“I think the white makes you look like an angel.” He poured a cup of warm water over Shiro’s crown, careful not to get any near his eyes. “Or a prince.” He grinned. “Old people don’t have asses like yours. Or pecs. Or anything else.”

Shiro opened one eye. “I thought you were getting in the tub with me.”

He rinsed Shiro’s hair and reached for the conditioner. “I’m just here to help you.”

_“Keith.”_

“What?”

Shiro craned his neck to meet Keith’s gaze. “Please?”

“You really want me in there?”

The tiniest curl appeared on Shiro’s lips, forming what could only be described as a pout. “I just want you closer, baby.”

Keith couldn’t resist the pout, not even for a moment. “All right. I’m coming in.” Shiro’s eyes tracked his movements as Keith grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion and ruffling his hair along the way, and then shook off his loose shorts. Maybe it was a little egotistical, but he waited for Shiro to make some sweet comment about his body or some sound of appreciation. 

What he got instead was a low gasp. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Keith almost turned around, trying to figure out what Shiro was reacting to. 

“Keith, you’re,” Shiro swallowed. “You’re hurt.”

He looked down at his chest and stomach, which was littered with dull bruises and fading welts. A few long cuts, closed and nearly healed, appeared on his forearms and thighs. Most of his injuries had been hidden by his t-shirt and shorts; he hadn’t even realized all of the marks from their fight would be visible. Then again, he hadn’t expected to be naked around Shiro. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Shiro’s expression tightened. “It’s not okay. I did that.”

Keith climbed into the bath, reaching out to smooth over the lines of worry on Shiro’s face. “It wasn’t you. It was to save you. I’ll always save you.” He pressed their foreheads together, wishing he could take away Shiro’s guilt with the sweep of his fingertips. “All that matters is that we made it out alive.”

“It’s worse,” Shiro said, ducking his chin, voice tight. “Worse than the Blade trials.”

“It’s not. I didn’t know who I was then. I know now.” He found Shiro’s hand under the water and pressed his wet palm against Keith’s own chest, over his heart. “I heal fast, baby. Don’t worry. It looks worse than it is.” 

Shiro looked unconvinced. “Keith--”

“You taught me how to fight. Do you get that every minute you sparred with me, every move you showed me, you were teaching me how to save my own life? And yours, too?” He exhaled, letting Shiro feel the movement of his chest. “And if I have to fight to get to keep you, to get to love you,” he shrugged. “I’ll fight every time.”

“The way you talk, Keith. God, I love you.” He took a breath, finally pressing a kiss against Keith’s scar. “I’m never going to stop telling you. Showing you.”

Keith tipped Shiro’s chin up, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you, too.” He wanted to kiss Shiro fiercely, as if he could convey all his love for him in one possessive movement, but Shiro didn’t need fierce right now; he needed gentleness. He waited for Shiro to open his mouth to him, deepening the kiss as he stroked along the sides of Shiro’s throat, feeling his pulse pick up under Keith’s touch. 

“You feel so amazing,” Keith said, pulling back to make sure Shiro could breathe. “I can’t believe I get to be this close to you.”

Shiro’s smile was small, almost shy. “You’re so beautiful. Look at you.” Shiro’s fingers traced the line of muscle down the center of Keith’s chest. “So perfect.”

The praise sang in Keith’s blood, making him blush. “You think so?”

“My Keith,” Shiro said, eyes heavy-lidded and lips full. 

“I am, you know,” Keith said, “Yours.” 

Shiro’s hand lifted to Keith’s cheek. “Good thing, because all I want to be is yours, too.” His thumb smoothed over Keith’s skin. “It just took us awhile to get here.”

“Worth it, though.” Keith turned his face to kiss Shiro’s palm. “Lemme clean you up, sweet boy.” He reached over to get the body gel and a washcloth, dipping the cloth underwater to warm it before drizzling the gel on the fabric. “Just lie back and relax.”

Shiro closed his eyes as Keith swept the washcloth over Shiro’s neck and chest, careful over his scars. Shiro’s pulse beat steadily in the hollow of his throat and Keith let himself feel it for just a moment, to know that Shiro was alive, he would recover. He dragged the washcloth down Shiro’s left arm, over firm muscle and the delicate tracery of veins along the inside of his forearm and wrist. He hummed a little while he worked, something his mom used to sing while they were on the space whale. 

“That’s pretty.”

“It’s Galran,” Keith said. “I don’t know the words. Just the tune.” He moves to Shiro’s right shoulder and what remains of his arm before the metal port. “Is this hurting you?”

“No,” Shiro said. He opened one eye, watching Keith work. “I know the arm they gave me was dangerous, but I feel really strange without it.” He sighed, leaning into Keith’s touch. “It’s going to take getting used to.”

“You’re not going to need to get used to not having one,” Keith said. “Lean forward for me, love.” Shiro did, and Keith washed his back, a little breathless at how muscled and broad it was under his hand. “Between Allura and Coran, Pidge and Hunk, you have two crack teams that can help you get a new arm. As soon as we land somewhere that has the supplies, I know they’ll be working on it. They probably already have schematics drawn up.”

Shiro looked pensive. “You think?”

“I know so.” He gave Shiro’s left shoulder a squeeze. “They’ll figure it out. And I’m sure Black will help.” 

“I know there are a lot of battles left to fight and I want to help us win,” Shiro said, his voice a little thick, “but honestly, I really just want to be able to hold you properly.”

“You’ve done fine so far,” Keith said, kissing the nape of his neck. “And you give me plenty to hold onto. So big and handsome.” He moved back around to Shiro’s front, washing over his chest and abs again just because he _could._ There was a light dusting of hair between his pecs, and under the water, he could see the treasure trail of hair leading down between Shiro’s thick, muscled legs. God, he was stunning. There wasn’t a place on Shiro’s body he didn’t want to kiss, didn’t want to touch. 

“It’s not fair,” Shiro said, a sad smile on his lips. “I want to wash you, too.”

“You will. When you’re better.” Keith dunked his head under the water, scrubbing his scalp with shampoo and rinsing it out, “I owe it to you at least to smell better before I get back in your bed.”

“Back in my bed,” Shiro repeated, reaching out to smooth a lock of wet hair from Keith’s forehead. “I love the sound of that.”

Before Keith could think about the position he was putting himself in, he straddled Shiro’s hips, pressing his chest against Shiro’s, leaning in for a kiss. “Promise me we’ll do this a lot,” Keith said, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck. “I like you like this. All warm and floaty and wet.”

“I like this, too,” Shiro said, licking a drop of water from Keith’s neck. “Anything that puts you close to me.” He huffed a laugh, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “I hate space flu. It’s taken every drop of energy I have.”

“You’re fine. You don’t need to do anything.”

“I know, but I wish my dick was getting the same message that yours is.”

Keith let out a gasp. He hadn’t even realized that he was pressing his erection against Shiro’s hip. “Oh, my God.”

Shiro’s laugh was sweet and laced with affection. “It’s doing a lot for my ego to feel how hard you are against me, baby.” His eyes were tired, but there was a spark in them. “Wish I could see you.”

“It’s okay,” Keith said, pulling away. “I can wait.”

“No, sweetheart,” Shiro said, tugging on Keith’s wrist lightly. “I wanna see you.”

Usually Keith didn’t feel particularly shy about his body, but a warm flush spread up his throat at the thought. “You’re serious?”

“C’mon, Keith. Give me something to dream about until I can have the real thing.”

Keith let out a slow breath, rising up on his knees until his hips were out of the water. His dick throbbed, jutting out from the swirl of black-blue curls between his thighs. He could barely breathe knowing that Shiro’s eyes were on him.

“Baby, look at you.” 

Keith dragged a inhale through his nose as Shiro reached out, tracing his index finger along Keith’s thigh. “Shiro.”

“So pretty,” Shiro said. “I knew you’d be gorgeous but this,” he paused, tilting his head. “I’ve never seen anything like you.”

“Um,” Keith said, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating. “You mean the purple.” It had been a surprise when some of his Galra features came into maturity, but one was that his dick flushed liliac when he was hard, plus there were some slight ridges along the bottom that he was pretty sure he hadn’t had before.

“You’re beautiful.” Shiro met his gaze, holding him steady. “Show me how you touch yourself, Keith.” 

Keith blinked. This was not at all how he expected this to go. “You, you want me to?”

“When I’m not too weak to move,” Shiro said, his voice edging on a plea, “I'm gonna take such good care of you, baby, but for now, show me. Show me how you do it. Please. Show me how I should touch you next time.”

Just the words from Shiro’s mouth had Keith leaking pre-come. “I’m not gonna last, seeing you like this.”

“I just want you to feel good, yeah? It’s okay. Just give yourself a nice, easy stroke.”

Shiro’s voice seemed to fire directly into Keith’s nerve endings, making his muscles tremble. He reached down, taking himself in hand, smearing the pre-come along the tip. 

“That’s it, baby,” Shiro said, his hand smoothing along the inside of Keith’s thigh, light and warm. 

“God, Shiro,” Keith gasped, already feeling his orgasm building. He was so hard and so close and he’d barely even touched himself but with Shiro spread out naked in front of him and touching his thigh, it was like a tidal wave of sensory input. 

“Just show me how you like it. Fast? Slow?” Keith stroked himself, aware of the soft, keening sounds coming from his throat. “You sound so pretty for me. Love the sounds you make.” Shiro’s fingers soothed along the inside of his thigh, and just the sight of Shiro’s hand on his skin had Keith panting. “Show me how you look when you come.”

Keith jerked himself faster, his breathing ragged, as the heat inside him turned to wildfire. “Baby.” The word was a moan. 

“You’re so good. That’s it.” Shiro’s voice was low and sweet. Keith wanted to wrap the sound around him. “Let go and come for me.”

He would have done anything Shiro asked at that moment. With one last bit of friction, Keith came hard, muscles clenching, coming over his hand and spurting onto his stomach. He opened his eyes as he tried to catch his breath, chest heaving, aware of the weight of Shiro’s gaze on him as he stroked himself through the last throes of his orgasm. The intimacy of what he’d just done crashed over him--he’d just gotten off in front of Shiro, the subject of every private fantasy he’d ever had--and he couldn’t speak.

“My perfect boy. You’re so beautiful,” he said, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s hip. Keith had been in a galactic war, flown a magical space lion through asteroid fields, but nothing he’d ever experienced was as heady as Shiro’s eyes on him. It felt like gravity had increased twofold. “Hearing you, seeing you… you’re even prettier than I imagined.”

“What did you imagine?” Keith bit his bottom lip, finally gaining the presence of mind to reach for a towel.

Shiro took the towel from him, leaning forward. “Here, let me.” He gently wiped Keith’s stomach, cleaning up the mess there, and then gently attended to Keith’s dick. The brush of the plush towel against him was almost too much, but Shiro kept the movements light and careful, as if he knew exactly how to touch him. “I’ve imagined a lot.” The flush started at Shiro’s chest and went all the way up his throat.

“Tell me.” Keith sank down under the water, sliding alongside Shiro’s side. The rush of adrenaline was starting to wane, leaving him sated and relaxed.

A soft chuckle left Shiro. “You want to hear about my fantasies?” 

“I mean, I want to help you live them out when you’re all better,” Keith said, smoothing a hand over Shiro’s frankly ridiculous pecs, “but for now, you can just tell me.”

“Keith.” Shiro kissed over Keith’s damp crown. “They’re all about you.”

“I bet.” His post-orgasm flush gave him a little swagger. He leaned into Shiro’s space, voice soft as he spoke in Shiro’s ear. “I wanna know more. All the dirty details. Am I on my knees, my mouth around your cock? Do I have you bent over a pillow, buried inside you?”

“Shit.” Shiro’s flush deepened, covering his eyes with his hand. “Both?”

“Baby, just tell me. You think I haven’t been thinking about you every time I’ve touched myself? Thought about how it would feel to drag my fingers down your gorgeous abs and stroke you until you shout my name? How it would feel to feel every inch of your body pressed against mine as I moan into your mouth?”

“Oh, my God.”

“What?” Keith kissed his jawline. “Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself.”

“You,” Shiro whispered. “You. Just you. The way you’d feel in my arms. How you’d be a force of nature. How you’d glow brighter than a nebula. How I’d touch you. Hold you. Take you. Be taken by you. The way you’d kiss me like I’m the only person in the galaxy. The way you’d fit perfectly against me.” He stopped for a breath. “Like you do right now.”

“Oh,” Keith said, kissing closer to Shiro’s mouth. “You weren’t kidding about being romantic.”

“I wasn’t.” Shiro chuckled. 

“I don’t know that I’m great at all that, but you make me want to be.”

“Well, you’ve always been a fast learner. But I hope you’re ready to be swept off your feet.”

Keith smiled. “I can pick you up too, you know.” 

“I do. It’s just one of the things I love about you.” Shiro wrapped his arm around Keith, and Keith rested his head against Shiro’s chest, loving how quickly the position had become familiar and comforting. “And besides, if we’re talking grand gestures, you’ve saved my life, like, more times than I can count, so maybe you’re the real romantic here.” 

“Mmm. I think the most romantic thing would be not having you in harm’s way for a few months, but that’s probably a lot to ask during an intergalactic war.”

“Probably.” Shiro sighed. “How about if I promise to stick close to you? That always seems like the best move for me.”

“I like you where I can see you,” Keith said, pulling him closer. “Touch you.”

“See, you’re getting good at the romantic stuff already.”

They stayed in the tub until the water got tepid and Shiro’s arm got goosebumps. Keith climbed out, grabbing all of their towels and helped Shiro out of the bath, steadying his steps. He wrapped a towel around Shiro’s small waist and wound another around Shiro’s shoulders before pressing a kiss against his chest. “You smell good.”

“So do you.” Shiro wavered a little on his feet and Keith caught him, pulling him against his side. “I think I might need a little help back to bed.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you, baby.”

++

“You comfy?” Keith tugged on the front of Shiro’s tank top, smoothing his palm once over Shiro’s abs before letting the fabric go. “Fresh pajamas must feel good.”

“Yeah.” Shiro eased back onto the bed, lying back with a soft sigh. “You wouldn’t think a bath would take so much out of me.”

“You’re still getting better. It’s going to be a little while longer before you’re back to yourself.” Keith held up his comm, setting on the side table. “I talked with Coran. He said at least two or three more days of total rest for you to make sure the virus is gone. How’s your pain?” 

“Less.” The tension in Shiro’s limbs had eased as proof.

“We can give you more pain meds in a few hours.” He pressed a water pouch into Shiro’s hand. “Take a few sips, yeah?”

Shiro complied and lay back against the pillows, taking a sniff. “Fresh sheets, too. You spoil me.”

“The sheets were me, but Black enlarged the bed.” 

“Huh. I thought this seemed bigger.” 

“She likes you to be comfortable.”

Shiro grinned. “She likes you with me.”

“Yeah. I think she likes you with me, too.” Keith pulled on a t-shirt over his pajama pants. “Her Black Paladins.”

“Gotta keep the lions happy.” Keith sat, bumping his hip against Shiro’s knee as he looked up at the monitor on the wall. Shiro squeezed his hand. “My vitals okay?”

“Everything’s nice and stable.” He kissed Shiro’s wrist. “Good job.”

“You turned out to be quite the medic,” Shiro said. “Guess it must run in the family. Your dad would be especially proud.”

Keith’s throat tightened. “I appreciate you saying that.” He hoped so. He’d always wanted to make his dad happy. 

“I was so lucky you’re immune. I don’t know how I would have gotten through without you.”

“I would have stayed with you no matter what. Even if I could have caught this. I would have never left you alone.” He reached out, smoothing over Shiro’s forelock. “I’m so glad it was me with you. Even if I did fuck up with the hydration patches.”

“Not a fuck up at all. Just an allergy to a space product that you could never have anticipated.”

Keith let out a sigh, linking their fingers together. “You had me worried for a minute, you know? You were so out of it. You thought you were,” he hesitated. “Captured. Or back on the astral plane.”

“It’s all still a part of me. All the memories. The good and the bad. God, when we get back to Earth, I’ll need one hell of a therapist.”

Keith snorted. “Won’t we all.”

“But you kept reminding me of who I was. Who I am.” Shiro tugged on their joined hands, pulling Keith down alongside him. “That’s what you do. You always help me to be myself. Even when I’m at my worst.” Shiro kissed the bridge of Keith’s nose. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

Shiro slid his hand up the back of Keith’s shirt. “Did, um, Coran say anything about making out as problematic for my recovery?”

“He said no strenuous activity, but I definitely didn’t ask about that specifically.” 

“Then we’ll keep our kissing to light cardio.”

“Sounds good.” Keith went in for a kiss, and then pulled back when he started snickering against the front of Shiro’s shirt. “Shit. They’re all going to be so surprised when they find out we’re together.”

“Oh, my God.” Shiro burst out laughing. “No, they won’t, Keith.” 

“What?”

“They’ve all been taking bets on how long it was going to take us to finally tell each other how we felt.”

“No! We’ve been pretty low-key. I mean, low-key enough that I didn’t know until like eight hours ago that you were into me. I’m sorry, taking bets? They haven’t, they don’t even--” Keith paused, frowning. “Well, fuck. This is like ‘I say Vol, you say Tron’ all over again, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said, “just like, mixed in with love of my life sentiments.” He patted Keith’s chest. “Your mom’s in on it, too.”

“Seriously?” Keith remembered her wink and covered his face. “You do know I’m a member of an elite secret space organization, yeah?”

“Aww, sweetheart, you keep those secrets really well.”

“Shiro.” Keith let out a soft whine. “Were we the only people who didn’t know?”

“I mean, there’s a lot of folks in the galaxy. We’re definitely not the only two.” He pressed a soft kiss to Keith’s mouth. “So we’re a little oblivious. It just makes for a better wedding toast.”

Keith gaped at him. “Did you just say wedding?”

“I mean, you know,” Shiro said, flushing. “After we save earth and the galaxy, blah blah blah, you know.” He coughed. “Just a thought.”

“Takashi Shirogane, have you been fantasizing about a giant cake with two little paladins on top?”

“No! But I mean, who doesn’t love cake?”

“Baby.” God, this man. This ridiculous, amazing, perfect man. “You’re my favorite. Person. Paladin. Period.”

Keith’s ears popped as space wolf appeared in the room, tail wagging, his mouth holding a bag overflowing with food. “Ah. Dinner has arrived.”

He climbed out of bed to feed space wolf, and then brought the rest to bed, handing over one of Hunk’s wraps to Shiro. “You know, instead of waiting until we get to earth, can we call this our first date instead?”

Shiro smiled. “They’re kind of like burritos.”

Keith grinned, leaned over, and kissed him on the mouth. “They’re close enough.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm on tw [@] starlitruns ✨


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